Chiron's Disciples
by Amicitia Revenant
Summary: The merging of two families has opened new doors, but not all opportunities are meant to be taken. The Turtles, struggling with the consequences of their parents' mistakes, must go in search of who they are and who they want to be – and the journey may change everything about who they thought they were. Sequel to "The Wisdom of Rats".
1. Chapter 1

"Achilles and many others of those ancient princes were given to Chiron the centaur to be brought up and educated under his discipline. The parable of this semi-animal, semi-human teacher is meant to indicate that a prince must know how to use both natures, and that the one without the other is not durable."

~Niccolò Machiavelli, "The Prince"

* * *

"David, I don't want you to get your hopes up, but we may have a cure."

Completely disregarding the first half of that sentence, David screamed into the phone.

Then he ran downstairs to get his mom.

* * *

_2000\. The last summer of the old millennium, if you count right, which a lot of people don't seem to be able to. He's just turned twelve, though he knows by now that the date he always celebrates his birthday is just an approximation. He's adopted, his real mother and real birthday unknown._

_"Real" mother. Screw that._

_He's sitting on the examining table, and his _real_ mother, the one he knows, the one he loves more than anything, is stroking the back of his head._

_"David," she says, "are you sure you want to do this?"_

_"This" is a careful excision of some of the weird, bony growth that has always covered his chest and back. He has fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva, the doctors tell him, a disease that hardens your flesh to bone, gradually mineralizing you into a living statue. His own incarnation of it has been stable, but he's scared. It's not unusual for the petrifying illness to speed up in adolescence. When he learns about it, he's too young to even pronounce it; the doctors tell him to call it FOP._

_He buries his face in his mother's stomach, the soft skin, pink under clothes she could go into a store and buy off a rack, and he just wants to be _normal_._

_"You don't have to," she says._

_"I want to," he whispers._

_In a minute, Dr. Ajeerian comes from the other room. David lifts his shirt, and then his own skin, such as it is, is being cut away._

_They know he can feel it. He's never really told them how _much_ he can feel it, how in some ways his exoskeleton is more sensitive than the only-slightly-less-tough epidermis of his arms and legs._

_The anesthetic - the tiniest dose; they're afraid of upsetting his endocrine system, already messed up in so many ways no one even understands it - isn't enough. He cries. He tells them it's because he's tired and sick all the time and he just wants a _cure_._

_Dr. Ajeerian packs up the fragment of bone and leaves, more interested in the sample than in David himself. It's always been that way._

_"A cure?" Mom asks. She sits at his side, snaking an arm around his waist, such as it is, to put gentle pressure on the wound. It's bandaged, though it doesn't bleed. He's not sure if he can feel his shirt draping differently, or if he's just imagining it._

_"I want a cure," he repeats._

_"For what?" Mom asks. She's always perceptive that way._

_"For _everything_," he says, and he knows she understands._

_They're quiet for a while._

_"David," she says, and instantly he can tell she's launching into one of those Mom speeches that she's not any good at. "You're perfect the way you are. You don't have to cure anything. You don't have to agree to any experiments you don't want to do."_

_All of that was lies. He knew he wasn't supposed to know, but the doctors were paying to do experiments on him, and he couldn't say no, not when money was so tight and his insulin so expensive (other things he wasn't supposed to know)._

_"Mom." Bone was bone, and the wound echoed through his skeleton, making it hurt to move. But he shifted anyway and looked up at her. "How could anyone be like me and _not_ want a cure?"_

* * *

2003, and it was finally happening. Ron had refused to tell him anything on the phone; Mom swore he hadn't told her anything either; but he was on his way and _there might finally be a cure_.

"I think you'd both better sit down," Ron said when he arrived. It was already too many hours later - excuses about a tractor-trailer jack-knifed in the merge that David didn't want to hear - and both Lambs reacted to Ron's suggestion with a cold stare.

"Or not." Ron set his own things down on the counter, then turned to face the mother and son. "First, you both need to understand that this is cutting-edge science. What we're doing is barely within the realm of possibility. What we've found has only become possible to look for in the last couple of years.

"We would never have thought to look for it at all if not for your family's story," Ron went on, referring to the rat-like man and turtle-like boys who had shown up several weeks ago, claiming to be David's father and brothers and telling a fantastic tale about their origins. "And, of course, the TCRI canister they gave us was a key clue.

"The residue on that canister contained a virus, which itself carried human DNA. You might have heard that new forms of therapy are emerging, in which a retrovirus like that is injected into a person with a genetic disorder in order to 'infect' them with a good copy of the genes. It's still highly experimental, though. It's nowhere near ready for use, and no one was doing anything like it in 1988, which is when Splinter said he found that canister."

Ron paused, letting David and his mom absorb what he had said so far.

"After identifying that retrovirus, David, we looked at your genome again and found that you have sequences that _exactly_ match sequences found in the retrovirus. Now," he said, holding up a hand, "that's not unusual. All humans share sequences of DNA exactly in common. That's what makes us all human."

David exchanged a glance with his mom, and waited for Ron to continue.

"Again working from the story Splinter told," Ron said, "we were able to determine that some sequences of your DNA exactly match analogous sequences in the reference genome for a red-eared slider turtle, which is what I initially identified you as when you were a baby." His eyes slid to Mom. "Your mother tells me you've now seen that part of your medical record."

David nodded, his eyes dark.

"But again," Ron continued, "not unusual. As I'm sure you know, because of the way all living things are related, humans share some of their DNA sequences with bananas."

"Well, he's certainly not a banana," said Mom, impatiently. "Get to the point, Ron."

"This is the point," Ron said, and paused dramatically, which did nothing to endear him to his audience. "_We could not find anything to falsify Splinter's story._" He paused again before explaining. "As unbelievable as it sounds, it _could_ be the case that you began life as a normal red-eared slider, that you were infected by a retrovirus associated with some organization called TCRI - which my colleagues have not been able to locate any record of, by the way - and that the resulting gene splicing turned you into a human-turtle hybrid. This would mean that you don't have FOP, a thermoregulatory disorder, or a problem synthesizing vitamin D. Rather, it would mean you have a turtle shell, an ectothermic body system, and insufficient access to sunlight."

David stared at him blankly for a moment before he managed: "And the diabetes?"

"Does occur in reptiles," Ron replied, "and is probably congenital. Combined with everything else, though, it resulted in serious disruption to the endocrine system, compromising your body's ability to maintain itself." He ran a hand over his head. "Given the nature of the uncontrolled experiment you were allegedly subjected to, it isn't surprising that this happened. What's surprising is that similar dysfunctions _didn't_ arise in 80% of the known cases."

"You mean, Splinter and the guys are healthy," David said.

"In peak condition, even," Ron said. "I haven't gotten that part of the story yet, but they're obviously serious athletes - and their systems are resilient enough to remain healthy despite the fact that they're living in what I understand are quite adverse circumstances."

David looked at his mom, who looked back, not seeming to be sure what to say. "What does it all mean?" he asked.

"What it means," said Ron, "is that theoretically - _just theoretically_, mind - if a retrovirus could be engineered to infect you with the segments of human DNA that are analogous to the turtle DNA you still have in the nuclei of your cells, you would lose your turtle traits and become fully human. You'd still be diabetic, but the therapy could resolve your other health issues - with luck, leaving you well enough to take advantage of your fully-human appearance."

David swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. "What - what would it be like? The therapy?"

"The therapy itself would just be an injection," Ron said. "The effects, likely extraordinarily painful. And possibly fatal."

David felt his mother put a hand around his forearm in a tight grip, but he didn't look at her.

"Like I said," Ron concluded, "we're just beginning to be able to test these kinds of therapies. Successful treatment, in a broad sense, is a long way off. But David," he said, "I will be honest. What we've been able to recover from the TCRI canister is going to put this line of research years ahead. And you can be assured that if this is what you want, my team and I will devote all possible resources to developing a cure for you." He fixed the young man with a serious look. "If you are certain that this is what you want, it would not be too soon to begin doing preliminary work-ups to prepare you for the therapy."

"What kind of work-ups?" David asked faintly.

"You know that you have a cardiac defect and a malformation of the genitourinary tract," Ron said, "which I would now suggest are more accurately described as a three-chambered heart and a turtle tail. Nevertheless, those would be two of the most difficult and risky areas of your anatomy to transition to a human configuration through gene therapy alone. If it is your intention to see this treatment through - and _only_ if it is your intention to see this treatment through - I would recommend reconstructive surgery of your heart and groin to prepare you for the transition."

Remembering the hand on his arm, David looked at his mom. She had gone unusually pale.

"I - I need some time to think about it."

"I should certainly hope so," Ron said, with uncharacteristic force. "You need to think about this long and hard, David, and since you're a minor I would not proceed without your mother's consent." He nodded at Mom. "Emma, I wanted to be sure to talk to you about this in person first. I'll forward you a full plan of treatment later in the week."

From growing up with a veterinarian for a mother, David knew that a treatment plan would include details of the proposed therapy, a prognosis for a realistic outcome, and information about risks up to and including death. He was definitely going to have to make sure his mom didn't try to hide any of that from him.

"Thanks, Ron," said Mom, though she looked more like she wanted to strangle the man for the ideas he had just put in her son's head.

"Thanks, Ron," David echoed, and then they were alone, with a scary new future in front of them.


	2. Chapter 2

Emma gave David his space.

He took the folder of his early medical records from her office and burrowed into the couch upstairs. Occasionally he would flip a page, but mostly he stared at nothing.

Snowflake, his blind white cat, patiently let him rest the papers on her. Having been trained to retrieve various useful items - including Emma, in case of emergency - Snowflake qualified as a service animal, though she'd never been formally certified as one. David had insisted on adopting her two years ago, and it had worked out better than Emma had expected.

She made herself busy around the apartment, and after a few hours had gone by, she sat next to her son.

He didn't say anything.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"What's missing?" He pushed the folder at her, with a deeply troubled expression. "Mom, it doesn't make sense."

Emma traced her own handwriting with her eyes. She'd had good penmanship fifteen years ago, and she thought she still did now. Despite David's constant hectoring about her aversion to computers, she still did all her charting by hand.

"There's something else you haven't seen," she said.

"_Mom!_"

"David -" She put a hand on his knee. "I haven't even had those notebooks in years. They're in Ron's files somewhere."

"How deep does it go?" he whispered, his voice not quite catching the words before they escaped.

"This is as far down as I know about," Emma said. "If you want to go further than that, your answers are somewhere else."

He nodded, and she had no doubt he was planning to use his "search engine" skills - whatever exactly those were - to hunt down everything there was to know about TCRI. If he hadn't done it already.

"You know about the intake process," she began, referring to the way she examined animals that were abandoned or surrendered to her clinic, assessing their health and making sure they had names. "That's what I did for you, when you showed up looking like a very sick turtle."

He nodded; he knew that from the notes in her lap.

"At first, that's what we thought you were," Emma went on. "Why would we think anything else? But that's when you started to talk."

David didn't talk now, remaining silent and reserving his judgment.

"Back then, people were just starting to take the idea of animal intelligence seriously. They were teaching sign language to gorillas and raising chimpanzees like human children. Ron and I agreed that we would try something like that with you. The notebooks you haven't seen document what happened next."

David's eyes darkened, but he still didn't say anything.

"You started meeting all the milestones for human infants," Emma recalled. "You spontaneously used language. You understood social cues. You learned to _read_. And potty training was not nearly as awful as I had anticipated."

Normally David would have interjected at this point from sheer embarrassment, but still he kept his mouth shut.

"We had thought you were the result of some kind of an experiment," Emma said. "Who would have guessed that was the closest we ever came to the truth? But at some point, it was just not remotely plausible that you were a turtle that had somehow been engineered to stand upright and speak fluent English. We needed another theory.

"You know the result," she went on. "We labeled your shell FOP, and your reptile heart a congenital defect, and your cold-bloodedness a thermoregulatory disorder. We had an explanation for everything. All together, they sounded ridiculous. But mostly we thought about them one at a time, because we were so busy trying to deal with each of them and keep you alive. And then as you grew up, we just thought about you as _you_, and we sort of forgot how many labels it took to hold you together."

She wanted to touch his hand, but she refrained. "And now, with everything that's happened… we're remembering what a mess we built up to try to explain you, and we're finding out that the _right_ explanation is the one that's both simple _and_ impossible."

She stopped there, letting him process.

"I can't believe it," David said finally.

"I know," Emma said.

"No," David said, "I mean I _can't_ believe it. I _can't_ accept that I'm really a turtle, because that would mean…" He trailed off, and Emma knew her son understood just enough about where that line of thinking led to know that going any further down it would change everything. "But I _have_ to believe it, because if I don't, then Ron's theory about a cure is completely wrong."

Emma saw immediately that this was an extremely faulty way to evaluate a proposed treatment plan, and she opened her mouth to say so.

"But then -" David said, and he pushed Snowflake off his lap and stumbled to his feet. "I have to go."

"David -"

"Mom, I know what I'm doing." He was heading for his room, the cat following at his heels. "I - I just have to prove a theory."

She worried, but she let him go.

* * *

_"So how can I contact you guys?" David had asked, a few weeks ago over donburi. "What are your ICQ handles?"_

_"My friend," Mikey said, slinging an arm around David's shoulders, and holding up his other hand to frame an imaginary view. "Whenever you have need of us… just shine the Bat Signal."_

_"No, I'm serious," said David._

_"You think I'm not?" Mikey feigned hurt. Pushing up from the table, he tore a sheet of notepaper from the magnetic pad on the refrigerator, and grabbed a marker from the cup on the counter. In a minute, he had drawn an impressively symmetrical Bat Signal. "There you go," he said, passing the drawing to David. "Just hang it down the sewer grate out front, and we'll know to come over right away."_

* * *

She made him come out of his room for dinner. He knew perfectly well that while theory-proving was encouraged in this household, avoiding blood sugar crashes always took priority.

As soon as he came into the kitchen, David grabbed the Bat Signal from the refrigerator, where it was pinned with one of the veterinary clinic's branded magnets, and put it on the table.

"Call the guys," he said.

Normally Emma insisted on requests being phrased with a little more courtesy, but on a day like this, she supposed she could ignore a little rudeness.


	3. Chapter 3

Mikey spotted it first. That was because he couldn't stay with the group. He was always darting off, running ahead, going in every direction without any _plan_.

It drove Leonardo crazy.

Sometimes, though, Mikey's unsanctioned scouting forays did result in valuable intel.

"Bat Signal!" Mike shouted, before he remembered to lower his voice. He came skidding back around the corner of the tunnel to rejoin the rest of the family. "They put out the Bat Signal!"

Immediately, Leo set aside the possibility of lecturing Mikey on his impetuousness again, and pulled up his mental list of strategic goals for the next meeting with David and Dr. Lamb.

Well, maybe it wasn't accurate to say he _set aside_ the idea of lecturing Mikey. He was, after all, naturally gifted at holding a lot of options in his mind at the same time.

"Can we go right now?" Mike was asking Splinter. "Can we can we?"

Splinter stroked his beard, and automatically Leonardo thought about what answer he would give, if it were his decision. (Some day - Splinter had been telling him for years now, in a series of weighty sermons - all such decisions _would_ be his.)

They were on their way to search for provisions, but they weren't in dire need of anything. They had deliberately taken a detour to see if David and Dr. Lamb had hung the Bat Signal. Though useful, the communication system they had created was ambiguous - it didn't indicate whether their long-lost brother had a pressing need to see them, or whether he simply desired a social visit.

"We can go now," Splinter said, before Leonardo was done thinking.

("Speed is always, always a risk," Splinter had told him, during one of the sermons. "Delay is also always a risk," he had added, and Leonardo had despaired of ever becoming a competent leader.)

"Or rather," Splinter went on, "we can go as soon as you recover your ability to be stealthy."

Michelangelo immediately silenced his cheering - he _did_ know how to be a ninja, he _was_ talented, if only he could learn some discipline - and in a moment they were heading up through the manhole, up along the fire escape, and in through the window.

Leonardo scanned the room as soon as he entered.

In some ways, it was like his own home. There was a couch and a talking box - a _television_, he and his brothers now knew perfectly well it was called, but somehow the name _talking box_ had stuck - and a private space for each occupant, and food neatly packed away in cabinets. And in other ways, it was different. It had a soft covering on the floor - which had startled him the first time his feet touched it, and which he still found unsettling - and there was a distinct lack of open space for practicing ninjutsu, or for engaging in any other kind of physical exercise. No wonder David didn't seem to have an ounce of muscle on him anywhere. Aside from the fact that he was desperately ill and very picky about his food.

"Guys guys guys," David said, as soon as they all came in and shut the window behind them. In some ways, he was like Mikey. "You'd better sit down."

Dr. Lamb laughed. Leonardo didn't understand what was funny, but he laughed too as he took a position on the couch, just to be sociable.

David gave him a weird look.

"Are you ready for this?" David said to all of them, and without waiting for a response from any of them, he said, "My team found a cure for us."

Silence.

"A cure for who?" Raphael asked. Troublesome as he could be, he had a knack for protecting Leonardo from all kinds of things the eldest didn't want to deal with.

"For _us_," David said, spreading his hands to encompass the room. "All of us."

"But we ain't sick," Raph said.

"Of course you are," David replied. "Haven't you looked at yourselves?"

"Oh yeah." Mike smoothed a hand over his bald scalp. "We are goooood-looking. Especially me."

"What -" Raph started, but Leonardo, who was beginning to have an awful feeling about where this was going, talked over him.

"David, a cure for _what_?"

"A cure for _everything_," David said, with a strangely rapturous expression on his face. "A cure for endocrine disruptions, but also for hearts and hands and excess bone growth and - guys, we can be _normal humans_."

"But we're not humans at all," Mike said.

"Yes, we are," David said. "Look." He grabbed a stack of papers from a side table, and started tossing them towards the couch, some in the direction of each brother.

"Otherkin," David said, which was the word printed in big letters at the top of Leo's stapled packet of papers. He had never seen that word before. "People who are convinced that they're animals in human bodies. They say they have the souls of tigers or horses or ravens. Pineapples, even. Weird, but -" He pointed at the sheaf of papers Raph was holding at a wary distance from his body. "Transgender people. Boys who say they're really girls, or vice versa. A male-to-female transgender person, for example, has the anatomy of a man, but feels like - _identifies as_ \- a woman. It used to be classified as a mental disorder, but now science is finding that people who say they're the opposite gender, in a very real sense, _are_. And -" He pointed at the pages Mikey was studying with horrified fascination. "Apotemnophiles." He said it as though it were a common word he'd been using for years. "Physically normal people who want to be amputees. They can use their limb, they know it belongs to them, but they feel that it's not supposed to be there. Usually treated with cognitive therapy, but sufferers who succeed in obtaining an amputation are almost always very satisfied with the outcome."

He looked at them all, emphatically. "We are humans. We _identify as_ humans. We're just in the wrong bodies. And now there's a cure."

Leonardo didn't have to look at Raphael and Michelangelo to know they were all of the same mind. "David," he said slowly. "We don't _identify as_ humans." He hoped he was using the strange phrase correctly. "We identify as Turtles. We are Turtles. And so are you."

"_I am not a turtle!_" David shouted, in a way that made Leonardo fear he was going to pass out, the way he did when they had first met. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Dr. Lamb was already rising from her seat. "_I am a human!_ I want to be a human!" As he grew more agitated, even the cat pricked her ears in his direction. "I want to be able to go outside! I want to be able to wear clothes that fit! I want to be able to type on a normal keyboard! I want to be able to kiss my girlfriend without feeling like I'm going to swallow her face!"

"You have a girlfriend?" Michelangelo asked.

"Of course I have a girlfriend," David said acidly. "Her name is Anna. She's hot."

"You tricked us," Leonardo said, steering the conversation back to what really mattered. "You said you needed our help to get a cure. We bled for you, David. And you betrayed us."

David quieted, his eyes turning sad. "I never lied to you," he said. "I thought you understood. I thought you'd be happy for me." He took a step backwards. "I thought you'd be happy for _yourselves_."

"We _are_ happy," Raphael said fiercely, because he always defended most passionately those things that he was most afraid of losing. "We don't gotta change into something we're not." He threw his sheaf of papers on the floor. "I'm embarrassed to call you my brother."

"Then don't," David said, taking another step towards his room. "I didn't betray you, but I don't need you anymore. I'm going in for surgery to start the transition process."

"I have not consented to that," Dr. Lamb said loudly, but David only slammed the door on all of them.

"I am so sorry," Dr. Lamb said into the ensuing silence.

"You're _sorry?_" Raphael shouted. "He fucking sold us out and you're _sorry?_"

"Raphael," Splinter said quietly. He inclined his head toward his _okaasan_, as he had begun calling Dr. Lamb. "We will support David in any way we can. Please let us know how we can be of assistance."

"I'm - I'm afraid for him," Dr. Lamb admitted. "This surgery he's talking about… I don't know if I'm going to let him have it. But -" She reached over to pluck the pages from Michelangelo's hands, and Leonardo saw a flash of a grossly injured leg, mutilated and half-severed. "Look what people do to themselves when they feel this way and can't get treatment."

Leonardo looked at the upside-down photo on the page in Dr. Lamb's lap. He thought about what David had said. And he began to sense a plan forming.


	4. Chapter 4

He was sleeping. And then, suddenly, a pillowcase was being jammed over his head.

"What should we grab?" hissed a voice.

"Grab everything," said another voice.

"Grab the cat?" That sounded like a third voice.

"I said _everything_."

He tried to fight, but the bodies connected to the voices held him down effortlessly. He tried to yell, but the oxygen mask muffled his shouts. He was pretty sure Snowflake tried to make a run for it, but an aborted yowl let him know she didn't make it.

Then he was being lifted - oxygen hose and IV lines and blankets and all - and he was too disoriented to tell where they were taking him.

Sound changed. The feel of the air changed. He had a distant memory of this, something that had only happened to him once, and he was _terrified_.

Then his abductors were putting him down on a hard surface, and crowding close around him. There were a couple of thumping noises, and the voice that the others seemed to listen to said, "_Let's go._"

Nothing happened. No one went anywhere. David tried to struggle, but someone pulled on the blanket _just so_ and he was completely pinned.

"Did you seriously just kidnap your own brother?" said a voice David didn't recognize. "Dude, you are a total whackbag."

"Shut up and drive, Casey," said one of the first three voices. David was beginning to form a hypothesis about what had just happened, and he couldn't decide if it was better or worse than other possibilities.

"Where are we going again?"

"Mikey, don't you ever listen to the plan?"

David had the infuriating feeling that he was right, and that regardless of how his theory compared to competing alternatives, it was objectively _awful_.

"Why should I, when I have you here to remind me?"

A thwapping sound. "Listen up, shell-for-brains. Casey's got a place outside the city. That's where we're going."

"There are places outside the city?"

David lost it.

"HAVE ANY OF YOU EVER OPENED A GEOGRAPHY TEXTBOOK," he shouted from inside the pillowcase. "Snowflake, kill them. Kill them all."

Something feline rubbed against his legs.

"Oh, phew. For a second I thought she was going to do it."

"C'mere, furball." A hand swiped over the blankets, and Snowflake was lifted away. "What's wrong with her eyes? They supposed to look like that?"

A different kind of anger welled up in David. Nobody talked about his cat like that. "She's blind, okay?"

"What, seriously? You trained a blind cat to get stuff for you?"

"Yes, I did." David pulled against the folds of blankets that were binding his hands. "Now, will you let me go?"

"Sorry, no can do. We're off to - where're we off to, Casey?"

"Northampton!" Casey cheered. "Don't you listen to the plan?" Then there was a rumble and a jerk, and the world was moving.

David kicked out, as best he could, trying to find anything to brace himself against. He had just realized they were in some kind of van, like he had seen from the windows of his apartment, and he was not prepared for this.

"Whoa, dude. You okay?"

A hand came to steady his shoulder. "I - I've never been in a car before," David admitted.

"Hey, it's cool. Us neither. I mean, except for that time with April, when Raph got kidnapped by a street gang. That was awesome."

"That was not awesome, Mikey," reprimanded the authoritative voice - Leonardo, David had surmised by now. "Nothing about that was awesome."

"Wait, April?" It took David only a second to dredge the name from his memory. "Not April O'Neil?"

There was silence, and then the pillowcase lifted from his head. "You know April O'Neil?"

David blinked at the face in front of him. Raphael. "Sure. She taught me to code when I was eight."

Raphael studied him, possibly for signs of deception. "April met you when you were eight?"

"Yes. Is that important?"

Raphael stared at him a moment longer, before thumping back against the wall of the van. "Shit, guys. That explains why April wasn't scared of us." He ran a hand over his face. "Oh man. I think we really fucked up."

"No, but what's his excuse?" Mike asked, hooking a thumb towards the driver's seat.

"He's a whackbag, he don't need an excuse."

"Forget about that," Leonardo said. "Master Splinter must have found out where David was by talking to April. Why didn't he tell us?"

"My mom didn't tell me either," David said. They all looked at each other for a moment, and then he let his head fall back against the floor of the van. "Why do parents suck?"

"Hey, they're not that bad," said Casey. "One time my old man -"

"Shut up, Casey." Raphael kicked the back of the seat. "Can't you see we're having a moment here?"

"Oh, sorry," Casey said. "Just cuz three cool dudes never climbed in _my_ window saying they were my brothers."

Raphael rolled to his feet to hang over Casey's shoulder. "Hey. You know you're an honorary Hamato."

"An honorary what?" said David.

"Hamato." Michelangelo smiled at him. "It's your family name, bro."

"David Hamato…?" It sounded foreign.

"Hamato David," Leonardo corrected softly.

It would truly have been a touching scene, if the people who claimed to be his family hadn't just _kidnapped him from his bed_.

* * *

They loosened the blankets and helped him sit up, and he took stock of exactly what they had meant by _everything_.

They had left the furniture. The computer, with its rat's nest of cords, had stymied them, and they'd decided to abandon the books. But they'd taken his baskets of medicines, and the breathing machine, and the UV lamp, and they hadn't hurt Snowflake.

That was a big plus, as far as David was concerned.

A big minus was that they'd forgotten to grab any clothes from the closet, and so all he had was the pajamas he was wearing.

His brothers wouldn't explain where they were going or why. Instead, he got some bizarre - and, he suspected, greatly embellished - story about how Raph had met Casey, who previously had been an international hockey star, but who had given up his career on the ice to become a masked superhero. No one seemed to think that the part about why a grown man had agreed to help a teenager kidnap his own brother required any explanation.

It felt like a few hours before the van jounced up a final road and rolled to a stop.

"Well, we're here," said Casey. "Ain't it great?"

David craned his neck, but he couldn't see out the windshield. Not that it mattered. Wherever they were, he didn't want to be here.

Leonardo cracked open the back door of the van and peered out, then quickly withdrew. "Mikey," he said, "secure the perimeter. Raph, take David's things to his room."

"Where's his room?" Raph asked.

"He can use my grandma's room," Casey said. "Top of the stairs, first one on the left. I'll show you."

"What are you going to do?" Mike asked Leo.

"Safeguard the package," Leonardo replied, in a completely serious tone.

"Bro," Raph said, after a beat of silence, "you gotta stop saying things like that."

Instead of answering, Leo made a small hand signal. Mike took off, vanishing into the pre-dawn gloom, while Raph grabbed whatever wasn't physically connected to David and started towards what David presumed was a house.

"Can you move?" Leo asked, when they were alone.

David pushed the blankets away, tightened the mask against his face and made sure the IVs were secure. "Yeah. If you can carry my gear."

Without comment, Leo lifted the IV pole in one hand and the CPAP unit in the other, and waited for David to set the pace.

He scooched to the end of the van's deck, and peered outside, as Leo had done. A fat half-moon hung just above the horizon, partly veiled by low clouds, and aside from that he couldn't process what he was seeing in the weak light. It wasn't Manhattan, that was for sure.

He stretched one bare foot towards the ground, and jerked back when he felt something totally unfamiliar against his sensitive sole.

"What's the matter?" Leo asked in alarm.

"What is that?" David asked. He tried to remember what kinds of things typically covered the ground outside. "Is - Is that grass?"

"I guess?" Leo said. He seemed to want to treat the offending plant as a threat, and yet it was so obviously not.

"I - I don't like it." David pulled his knees to his chest. "Leo, I want to go home. This is crazy."

"Sorry," Leo said. Somehow, without getting the lines tangled, he climbed around David and dropped to the ground. "I can carry you. Climb on my back."

David couldn't believe he was doing this, but the next thing he knew, Leonardo was carrying him and his equipment across the dark grass and into a dilapidated house.

Mikey caught up to them as they crossed the porch. "Perimeter is secure," he reported, without making any comment on David's mode of transportation.

"I'm gonna run for some food," Casey said, as he passed them on the stairs to the second floor.

"Bring back some jerky!" yelled Raph, from what was presumably David's room.

"Can you get us some cereal?" Mikey asked. "The sugary kind?"

"What part of _diabetic vegetarian_ do you all not understand?" David demanded.

"Uh," said Mikey. "The first part, and also the second part."

"Oh my god." David leaned his forehead against the knot in Leo's mask. "You're going to kill me."

"Casey, bring us fruits and vegetables," Leo ordered. "Raph, if you want meat, you can hunt for it."

"Are you kidding me?" David asked, but he couldn't get away from these people unless he wanted to tear out his lines, which he really didn't.

Leo carried him upstairs and put him in a freshly-made bed. "Welcome to having siblings," he said.

"This is not _having siblings_," David said, even as he compulsively checked his lines again. "This is criminal abduction of a minor."

Leonardo just smiled. "And what are you going to do about it?"

All he got in reply was a glare. Leonardo may have been a pretty crafty guy, but David had talents his brothers could only dream of.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite the stressful night, David got up early. He was used to it. He looked out the window, and saw the sun rising on a world he'd never seen before.

Trees - an unbroken line of them, a _crowd_ \- in fiery colors, below a pink sky wider than he'd ever seen. Off to the left, a bright patch on the ground that it took him a moment to identify as water. More than a puddle – maybe a lake. There wasn't another building in sight. Nor could he see a road, a sidewalk, a car, a fire hydrant, a street light, a telephone pole, a stop sign. It was like waking up on another planet.

And below the window, in an open grassy area, his brothers were beating each other up.

It didn't surprise him in the least that they had already resorted to violence to deal with some problem. What did stand out to him was how _skillfully_ they were beating each other up.

Not that he was remotely qualified to judge that kind of thing, but he could see the moves they were using were fast and precise and complex and _strong_. They sure looked like they knew what they were doing.

They looked like they did this often.

He turned away from the window to take stock of the room. It was warm and bright, the morning sun streaming in to light up a wooden floor. On its way it crossed over the colorful quilt that David had left rumpled on the bed, tangled with his own blankets from home. In a fold at the bottom of the covers, Snowflake was still asleep.

One wall of the room was taken up by the slatted accordion doors of a closet. Inside were stacks of cardboard boxes. David lifted the covers of the topmost ones, and found documents and photos - family records, he supposed. Potentially he could use them later to make someone's life a misery.

Putting that option in the back of his head, he turned to the other end of the room. A wooden desk was barren except for his baskets of medicines. These he searched carefully, satisfying himself that everything was accounted for. Then he checked his glucose and gave himself a dose of insulin.

Sitting next to the desk was a wooden chair. David wedged it under the doorknob. He wasn't sure that worked outside of the movies - certainly he doubted it would slow down his musclebound brothers - but he had to do _something_.

Then he returned to the window. Strange birds were calling, and his brothers were nowhere in sight.

He sat on the bed to consider his situation. He had few clues about where he was, other than that it definitely wasn't New York. He was outnumbered and hopelessly overpowered by three teenagers who had no compunctions about the use of force. He was in severe danger of having a medical emergency that no one here was equipped to deal with.

This morning, though, he felt pretty good. That was definitely a plus. He had his service cat, and he knew, without a doubt, that he was smarter than his abductors. He could hack the house and make them regret ever dragging him out of his own bed at home in Manhattan.

Of course, that would require him to leave this room.

The silence unsettled him. He knew that his brothers were stealthy, and that they didn't think it was unusual to climb through people's windows. They could be sneaking up on him _right now_, from any -

A knock at the door.

"Hey D?"

He didn't recall having given them permission to use that nickname. He decided not to answer.

Another knock. "Dude, are you awake?"

Snowflake lifted her head at the noise, then squirmed around, rolling onto her back and sticking her nose under a peak of the blanket. She didn't seem to feel this was worth getting up for.

"Well, I made breakfast." It sounded like Michelangelo. "You can join us, if you're awake. Or I can make you something later, if you're not. Or, you know, whatever. We can do what we want." A pause. "Don't tell Leo I said that. Uh. Okay. Bye."

He had been kidnapped by _idiots_.

And yet, as always, he was a hostage of his diabetes. His brothers didn't seem to understand this, but he had to eat, often and carefully, if he wanted to not have a seizure and die.

And _they_ didn't want to be cured? He would always be sick, but _they_ could really be normal, could have lives like everyone else. What was wrong with them, to say no to such an opportunity?

Well, he wasn't going to find out by hiding in Casey's grandma's room.

He was good at this. He understood people, and how to get them to do what he wanted. He had been practicing on his mom his whole life.

_They_ were trapped in here with _him_.

He moved the chair, opened the door, and peered into the hallway.

He had never seen a hallway so long, and he almost fell over from the dizzying perspective. There were half a dozen doors, and a staircase leading up - he'd never been on a third floor - and, in the other direction, the wide staircase leading down towards the front door.

He didn't know the layout of the downstairs, but he could hear voices.

"_Kare wa megasamete imasu ka?_"

"_Shirimasen. Kare wa nani mo iwanakatta._"

Right. That was another disadvantage he was at.

He followed the voices as though he wasn't afraid of them.

The next thing he knew, there was a plate flying towards his face, until a hand - green like his own, but so much thicker - caught it inches from his nose.

"Mike." Leo arced the plate onto the table, somehow guiding David into a chair with the same motion.

"Sorry," Mike said. "Habit." He frisbeed a plate towards Raph, who caught it as though this were, in fact, a completely normal way of serving food. "You like pancakes, D?"

David looked at the fluffy stack on his plate. "Pancakes are okay," he said grudgingly.

Mike beamed as though this were the best compliment he had ever gotten, and carried the last two plates to the table, sliding one of them towards Leo.

"Where's Casey?" David asked.

"He went home," Raph said, digging into the pancakes with his bare hands.

"Home?" said David. He noticed there wasn't any alternative to bare hands - no one had put any silverware on the table - so he didn't touch his pancakes at all. "He went back to New York?"

Raph shrugged. "Guess so."

"Let me rephrase that," David said. "We're stranded here?"

"Is there a problem?" Leo asked. He had rolled up one pancake into a tube, but hadn't taken a bite yet.

"Is there a problem with the food?" Mike asked, concern furrowing his brow.

"Yes, there are problems!" Everyone was staring at him. Good. "We're in the middle of who-knows-where with no way of getting medical services if I need them. And _silverware_."

"Oh, right." Mike jumped up from the table, rummaged in a drawer, and brought back a spoon. "Here you go." As he sat down again, he said, "How's the medicine working?"

Sitting there with the spoon in his hand, all David could manage was: "What?"

"The medicine I gave you." Mike took a big bite of pancake and kept right on talking. "Is it helping?"

David took a slow breath. Weeks ago, Mike had given him a jar of yellowy-brown glop that he'd called _medicine_. David had been gradually emptying the stuff down the sink. This morning, while searching for his glucose meter, he'd pushed the jar aside without even thinking about it.

"Yes," he said, "but I've almost run out. How are we going to get back to New York to get more?"

"Oh, no problem," Mike said, with a huge grin. "I can find the ingredients here."

_Shit._

"But meal planning," Mike went on, while Leo and Raph ate their pancakes as though all the problems had been thoroughly resolved. "What can you eat?"

"I don't eat meat," David said, because it was absolutely not in his interest to lie about _this_. "I don't eat fish. I do eat eggs. I do eat dairy, but not a lot because it upsets my stomach."

Mike nodded, though it wasn't clear if he was actually taking any of this in. "Okay. No problem. I can make -"

And then David wasn't taking in anything Mike said, because he had just spotted the phone on the wall.


	6. Chapter 6

After a while, David got his own fork and knife, and then he ate the pancakes.

They were actually really good.

"What were you doing this morning?" he asked, as Leonardo began to clear the table and clean up the dishes.

"_Renshuu_," Leonardo said. "Practicing."

"Practicing what?" David asked.

"Ninjutsu," Leonardo replied.

"You're serious," David said. Mike slid a bowl of cubed melon across the table, and David speared a piece with his fork. "You're really ninjas."

"Damn right we're really ninjas," Raphael said, and he speared a whole line of melon cubes with one of the three-pronged daggers he carried in his belt. David had noticed before that this seemed like an inconvenient and dangerous way of carrying such things, aside from the question of why Raph carried them at all.

"Raph, not at the table," Leo said.

"Whatever," Raph replied, reclining in his seat and eating the melon cubes shish-kebab style.

David stored this interesting exchange in the back of his mind.

"Yes, we're really ninjas," Leo said. "We've been training since we could walk."

"Uh-huh," David said. "And will you be ninja-ing some more after breakfast?"

"I'm going to go get some ingredients for the medicine," Mike said. "I need some other stuff anyway."

"I'll go with you," Raph said.

"No, you won't," Leo said. "You'll stay here and do the thing we talked about."

"I'll do it later," Raph said.

"You'll do it now," Leo replied quietly.

David couldn't believe how easy this was.

"Are you my _sensei _now?" Raph demanded. "You going to tell me what to do?"

"I'm your _chunin_," Leo said, placing another dish in the rack, "and yes I am."

David reached for another cube of melon, and noticed Mike was doing the same.

"_Moka-moka su-su_," Raph replied. David didn't understand the words, but the insolent tone was impossible to miss.

"Thirty flips."

"Like hell."

"Guys, seriously?" Mike interrupted. "Raph, just do the thing. It's what we came here for."

Raph grumbled something that David couldn't identify as any language, and the conversation seemed to be over.

"You want to come?" Mike asked, as he put the leftover melon back in the fridge.

Nobody answered, and David realized Mike was talking to him. "Me? Where are you going?"

"Just out in the woods," Mike said, straightening the weird utility belt the guys all wore.

"What?"

"To get the ingredients," Mike said. "You want to come?"

David didn't understand how Mike planned to find ingredients for anything out in the woods. Everything in his mom's kitchen came from the little grocery store down the block. Where it came from before that, he didn't know or care.

But more importantly, Mike had just invited him to _go in the woods_, a place he knew nothing about and could hardly even imagine. Wasn't it full of dangerous animals? Poisonous plants? Infectious diseases?

His trepidation must have been obvious.

"Well?" Raphael said savagely. "You said you wanted to go outside. Here's your chance."

"That's enough," Leonardo said in a thunderous tone.

"Is that it?" Mike asked, with genuine sympathy. "You're afraid to go outside?"

"I'm not _afraid_," David said, crossing his arms and looking resolutely at the cuffs of his pajamas.

"Have you ever _been_ outside?" Leonardo asked. Damn, he was perceptive. "Other than last night?"

"… Only once," David admitted.

Leonardo turned the water off and came back to sit at the table. "When?"

David sighed. "I was five. My mom and I had to move. We walked a couple blocks, rode the subway, walked a couple blocks. That was it."

Leonardo nodded, almost as though he had already known. "That's why Splinter didn't know where you were. You moved."

"Why'd you have to move?" asked Michelangelo, who had also drifted back towards the table.

"Just a money thing," David said. "New York is expensive."

This, his brothers didn't seem to relate to at all.

"But… it was weird," David said, into the silence. "What I remember most is standing on the subway platform. It… it reminded me of something."

The others looked at each other for a long moment.

"Home," said Raphael.

David looked up from his sleeves. "What…?"

"We grew up on a subway platform," Raphael said. "Abandoned, sealed off from the tracks. Just had a back entrance to some service tunnels. But some of the signs and markings were still on the walls, and we could always hear the trains. You remember."

"I don't even know what you're saying," David replied. "What do you mean, you grew up on a subway platform?"

"_We_," Leonardo said, and that was all the answer he gave. "We have a lot to talk about - after we do our work." He met David's gaze. "You can do anything you want, today."

David didn't like the way Leonardo added that qualifier, but he took it - for now.

* * *

As promised, Mike went out through the kitchen door and headed towards the woods. Raph settled cross-legged on the floor in a corner of the living room. And Leonardo stayed in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes and then cleaning the swords he carried with some mysterious substance he kept in a jar.

"What's he doing?" David asked, referring to Raphael.

"Meditating," Leonardo replied.

"Why?"

Leo didn't answer.

"What are _you_ doing?"

"Cleaning my swords."

"Why?"

Leonardo was silent long enough that David thought he wasn't going to answer that question either, but then he began speaking in a measured tone. "Ninjutsu is about more than fighting, David," he began. Again, that perceptiveness. "It's about stealth. Deception. Wilderness survival. And discipline. You have to take care of yourself, and you have to take care of your tools. As it is said, the ninja makes the weapon. But I wouldn't want to go into battle with a rusty blade."

"Okay, but why?" David said. "Why study any of that?"

"It's who we are," Leonardo said, and as he cleaned the blades until they gleamed, he told a long story of two young boys in Japan, and their training with a wise ninja master, and their competition for a girl.

And a pet rat.

"Are you telling me," David said, when Leonardo had concluded, "that your father used to be a normal rat, and in that state he managed to learn martial arts, and then he taught it to you just because it's family tradition?"

"Yes," Leonardo said, "yes, and not exactly."

David was more interested in the first two parts. "How many more prequels does this story have, and exactly how many ridiculous premises do they contain?"

"I don't know," Leonardo said. "You're not the only one searching for answers, David."

"What _is_ the plan here?" David asked.

Leonardo gave his swords a final wipe, and slid them into the holsters he carried across his back. "Let me show you something, first."

* * *

Half an hour later, David was shirtless and facedown on the kitchen table. "Oh my god," he was saying. "I didn't know it was possible to feel this good."

"And that is a skill called _shiatsu_," Leonardo told him. After spending ten minutes coaxing David into this position, Leo had spent the next twenty working over every inch of his back, drawing sensations from the bony plating that David had never experienced before.

"How do you know how to do this?" David asked.

"Trial and error," Leonardo replied, continuing with the gentle pressure. "Learning what's good for Turtles."

"We're not turtles," David said.

"I have to ask," Leo said, without interrupting his ministrations. "How do you explain being able to hold your breath for half an hour?"

"What?" David blinked against the grain of the table. "I can't do that."

"No? Not when you're swimming?"

"I've never _gone_ swimming," David said. "I've never been in anything deeper than a bathtub."

He really, _really_ didn't like the pause that ensued.

"Like I told you," Leo said, "you can do anything you want today. But I know what you're doing tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

One day Splinter woke up, and his children were gone.

It wasn't metaphorical this time. They really were _gone_.

Still, perhaps he should have seen this coming too. The day before, his sons had not wanted to discuss the distressing encounter with David from the previous evening. Instead, they had shut themselves in Leonardo's room to hold a lengthy private conversation in low tones.

Splinter had suspected they were up to something. He had considered eavesdropping on them; it would have been easy. But he had decided to give them their space, respecting that they were going through a difficult time, and trusting them to handle it maturely.

And now they were missing. The possibility existed, of course, that they had been snatched from their beds overnight. But there were no signs of a struggle, and Splinter could not detect any presence of an intruder. There was only a fresh scent trail of his sons leaving their rooms and exiting the Lair.

Splinter followed the trail, and was unsurprised when it led directly to the manhole in front of Dr. Lamb's building. His sons' scents were all over the ladder. They had been here, and more recently than when he had been with them.

It was broad daylight, but Splinter spent hardly a second considering whether he should risk a journey topside to contact Dr. Lamb. Though his sons had left home of their own volition, they were almost certainly doing something irresponsible and foolhardy. He could not wait until nightfall to go after them.

Quickly, he climbed the ladder and slipped into the alley. Though he tried to hold out hope that his sons were simply making an illicit visit to their brother, he was not surprised when he reached the window and saw Dr. Lamb running frantically around her apartment.

He tapped on the glass, and she flung the window open and pulled him bodily inside.

"David is _gone_," she said, as she slammed the pane shut and yanked the curtains closed.

"So are my sons," Splinter said. "Are you certain they are not here?"

Dr. Lamb shook her head. "They're not up here. They're not in the clinic. Splinter, you have to see his room."

She grabbed his arm again and dragged him in that direction. Splinter had not been manhandled in this way since his mutation, and the forthrightness of the move somehow bypassed his reflexes. Where normally he would have quickly escaped from such a hold, he instead found himself following his captor.

"_Look_," Dr. Lamb said, pushing open the door of David's room, and Splinter saw his sons' signatures everywhere.

David was gone. So was his cat. So was the tangled nest of medical equipment Splinter had found the first night he had crept in on his missing child. The machine on the desk had been tampered with, its various parts all askew, but the knot of cords holding it together seemed to be mostly intact. The books on the shelves were untouched, and, Splinter observed, so were the clothes in the closet.

His sons' handiwork, indeed.

"What happened here?" Dr. Lamb asked him, after he had gotten a good look.

"_Okaasan_," Splinter said, "I believe my sons have kidnapped their brother."

Dr. Lamb looked at him, aghast. "What is wrong with your children? Do I have to revoke their visitation rights?"

Splinter flattened his ears. "I do not know what they are planning. The important question is where they have _gone_."

"Did they go back to your place?" Dr. Lamb asked.

Splinter shook his head. "They are certainly not there."

"Where else would they go?" Dr. Lamb looked at the barren bed, stripped down to the sheets.

Splinter stroked his chin. "None of them have much knowledge of the outside world. Nor can they travel very far on their own. Whom might they have asked for assistance?"

The answer came to them at the same moment.

"_April O'Neil_."

"I don't know where she lives," Dr. Lamb said.

"I do," Splinter said. "I have not visited her home directly, but my sons have. They told me its location, and I guided Miss O'Neil there once. I can lead you as well."

"Then let's go," Dr. Lamb said, already striding out of the room. Splinter turned to follow, only to pull up short when Dr. Lamb did the same. "But wait. What if David calls home? That's what he would do, if he could get to a phone."

"Do you not have a portable speaker?" Splinter asked. When Dr. Lamb responded with a blank look, he mimed holding one of the devices he had seen to his ear. "We have observed that many humans have an invention into which they speak while travelling. We assumed it was some sort of communications device. Otherwise, I fear that much of humanity has gone insane."

"Oh, they have," Dr. Lamb said, resuming her movement towards the front door. "But you're talking about cell phones. No, I don't have one." She grabbed a purse from a hook in the hallway. "David kept telling me to get one. I guess I should have listened."

"It seems that both of us could do a better job listening to our children," Splinter replied.

Dr. Lamb pressed a hand to her face. "Okay. We're going to go to April's. David is going to call home. How are we going to receive his call." She phrased it as a statement, and in a moment provided her own solution. "Terri."

"Who is Terri?" Splinter asked, as Dr. Lamb took off towards the kitchen.

"She's been my best friend since high school," Dr. Lamb said. "She's known David since he was a baby. She's going to come here and watch the phone, and she's going to give me her cell phone, so if David calls her, she'll call me."

Splinter had not known that Dr. Lamb had her own strategic talents, and he was impressed by this quick thinking. Without wasting a moment, she had dialed the phone in the kitchen and was talking to her friend.

"Terri, you need to come over right now," she was saying. "I'll tell you when you get here."

* * *

Terri arrived about twenty minutes later, with a teenage girl in tow. Neither of them seemed to notice that Splinter wasn't an ordinary person.

"Terri, Anna, this is Splinter," said Dr. Lamb. "He's David's brothers' father."

"Nice to meet you," said Anna.

"It's about time," said Terri. "How are you? Where have you been?"

Splinter wasn't sure how to answer, but fortunately Dr. Lamb interrupted. "Terri, this isn't a social visit. David is missing. Splinter and I are going to find him. I need you to give me your cell phone and stay here. If David calls, call me. Or, yourself. You know."

"Honey, I get it." Terri's face had turned worried, and she dug in her capacious handbag for her phone. "I'll take care of everything."

"_One_ batch of cookies," Dr. Lamb said. "There had better not be more than one batch of cookies when I get home."

"Go find your son," Terri said, pressing her cell phone into Dr. Lamb's hand and pushing both of them out the door.

Splinter was not sure what had just happened. He had never encountered such a formidable person.


	8. Chapter 8

April was sleeping in - perks of being self-employed - when she woke up to a knife at her throat.

"Where are my sons?" demanded the shadowy figure kneeling on her chest.

For a moment April could not understand the question. It was 10:00 AM and she did not know where _anyone's_ children were.

Then the figure came into focus, led by a long, whiskered snout.

"Master Splinter …?"

To her surprise and alarm, the knife pressed a little closer.

"_Where are my sons?_"

"I don't know," April said. She tried to pull away from the blade, but Splinter was already pressing her down into the mattress, harder than seemed possible given his size and weight. "I haven't seen them since we dealt with Stockman."

The blade eased off a fraction of an inch, and she realized someone else was in the room - an older woman, standing not far from the bed.

"Who are you?" April asked.

"Wow, ungrateful." The woman took a step forward. "I only paid you professional wages for intern-level work."

April wracked her memory. "Dr. Lamb?"

Dr. Lamb leaned over the bed. "Where's my son, April?"

"I don't know!" April wailed. "I haven't seen him since I stopped working for you!" She closed her eyes, hoping this was all just a nightmare. "Why do all my bosses try to kill me? Good thing you went into self-employment, April. No, wait. Now you'll probably try to commit suicide."

Splinter climbed off her. "She is sincere," he said to Dr. Lamb. "Our apologies, Miss O'Neil," he went on. "Our sons have disappeared, likely together, and we do not know where they could have gone."

"Well, they aren't here," April said. She knew at least three of the Turtles could be very stealthy, but she felt certain she would have noticed four green teenagers in her apartment.

Splinter and Dr. Lamb stood in thought, as though there were no problem with continuing to hang around her bedroom after they had just accosted her in her sleep.

"Raphael mentioned another friend," Splinter said after a moment. "A Mr. Casey Jones. But I do not know where to find him."

"I would try the phone book," said Dr. Lamb, "but talk about a common name."

"I could try to find him," April volunteered. They both looked at her blankly. "I mean, I'm pretty good at the internet."

"It _is_ why I hired her," Dr. Lamb said, when Splinter looked to her for her thoughts. "I mean, sort of, at least."

"Gee, thanks," April said, as she threw the covers off and climbed out of bed. "So fill me in," she went on, as Dr. Lamb and Splinter followed her into the hallway. "What happened to the Turtles, and why do you think I know where they are?"

"Could everyone please stop calling them turtles?" Dr. Lamb asked, but Splinter ignored the comment and began recounting what had happened in the weeks - had it really only been weeks? - since April lost her job with Dr. Stockman.

"With your assistance," he began, "I was able to locate my fourth son. Introducing him to his brothers was… difficult. They have struggled to form a healthy relationship."

"David talked them into giving blood samples," Dr. Lamb explained, "which his doctors then used to tentatively propose a cure for his condition. The other boys knew that was the plan. What they didn't realize was what David wanted a cure for was not just his diabetes, but the whole looking-like-a-big-turtle thing. They weren't too happy when they found out."

Memories of Dr. Lamb and her uniquely blunt style came flooding back as April pulled the phone book out of a kitchen drawer and opened it on the table. It probably wouldn't be enough to find a Mr. Casey Jones, but it would be a good starting point. She was also remembering what she had known about David and his health conditions. Though no one had ever talked about it directly in her presence, it had been obvious that he had some complex medical needs.

"Yes," Splinter said, taking a seat at the table. He seemed put off by Dr. Lamb's way of telling the story, though he was trying not to show it. "We believe that, unsatisfied with the way Dr. Lamb and I have been handling the situation, my sons have taken David to some private place in an effort to resolve their differences themselves. We thought they might have asked you for help in reaching such a place."

"I haven't heard from them at all," April said, turning pages through the J section of the phone book. Jacobs, Johnson, Just - oops, too far - Jones. "Here." She traced a finger down the column, reading off names. "Adam Jones. Arnold Jones. Beatrice Jones. Carl Jones. Cassandra Jones." She paused, checking again, making sure she hadn't missed a listing. "Do you think Ms. Jones goes by 'Casey'?"

Splinter shook his head. "I am certain Raphael said Casey Jones is a man."

"Well, there's no Casey Jones here," April said. She left the phone book lying open on the table, and headed towards her computer in the living room. "Let's try something else."

As her computer started up, it occurred to her that she was in her pajamas, searching public records on behalf of her former employer and a mutant rat, in an attempt to locate four teenagers she barely knew. It further occurred to her that, compared to other events in her life recently, this was not especially strange.

She bent her fingers over the keyboard, launched a web browser, and got to work. "What else do we know about Casey Jones?" she asked.

"I have not met him," Splinter said, "but he lives alone, enjoys spicy food, and is an honorable person."

"How do you know that?" Dr. Lamb asked.

"From his smell," Splinter replied, "and from the fact that my son would not be friends with him otherwise."

"Are you -" Dr. Lamb started, but April interrupted.

"It's important to know that he lives alone. That means any listing should be in his name." She entered another search term in a database. "Are we sure he lives in New York, though?"

"I am not certain," Splinter said. "It is possible that he only visits."

"He could have an unlisted phone number," April continued, almost without listening. "I'm checking property records. Let's see if Mr. Casey Jones owns or rents anything in this city."

She worked at it for a while, almost forgetting her guests in the process. Splinter and Dr. Lamb milled around her apartment, disconcertingly, but less destructively than Leonardo and Michelangelo had.

"I've got nothing," she said, when all her searches came up empty. "Do we have any other leads?"

Dr. Lamb shook her head. April had never seen her look so worried, even when she had a dying animal in her exam room. "We don't know where else they could be." She dug in her bag and held up a cell phone. "We're just hoping they call."

"I hope they will too," said April. "But in the meantime, let me try a few other things."

While Splinter and Dr. Lamb watched, she set up monitoring of police scanners. She hacked into the Sacks shell company and looked for anything suspicious. She hunted down David's online identity and asked his friends if they knew what might have happened to him.

There was no sign of the Turtles anywhere.


	9. Chapter 9

True to his word, Leonardo didn't interfere with David for the rest of the day, and he didn't allow his brothers to do so either. David made the most of his freedom.

First, he learned the layout of the house. It seemed to go on forever, the rooms so large David was convinced they contained previously-unknown dimensions. And there were so _many_ of them. Four bedrooms. Two full bathrooms. Two living rooms _and_ a study. A spacious kitchen _and_ a separate dining room. Closets so large he would have mistaken them for rooms if they'd contained furniture instead of a jumble of strange items.

The third floor turned out to be an attic. It contained piles of tools, and antique toys, and spare parts - to exactly what, David couldn't even tell - and a sewing machine and what appeared to be the remains of family pets.

There were also trunks of old clothes. The contents were so musty that David thought he would seriously consider going naked before putting them on. There was nothing that would fit him anyway.

He liberated a wrench and went back downstairs, to where his brothers were lounging in the front living room.

"This place is huge," he said. "I mean, two bathrooms? Technically I have two at home, but one's in the clinic. I tried to talk my mom into using that one, and the one upstairs would be mine, but so far she hasn't gone for it."

"Do you want the upstairs bathroom?" Leonardo asked, without looking up from the book he was reading - an ancient paperback selected from the extensive, if somewhat dated, collection lining the shelves in the study. "We can use the one down here."

"That would be great," David said.

Too, too easy.

He went down to the basement next. He got distracted by the furnaces for a while - one wood-burning and one for gas, he had never seen a set-up like that - before he remembered what he came down here for.

Later in the day, he hung out in the kitchen, watching Michelangelo shred, dry, boil, and mash parts of various plants.

"What are these?" David asked.

Michelangelo pointed to the specimens spread out on the long counter. "Stomach calm. Clean blood. No sick. Zen mind. Heart strong."

"Really?" David raised a brow. "Are those their botanical names?"

Michelangelo shrugged. "It doesn't matter what you call them, right? It matters what they do." He smiled. "And you said they're working." He continued his preparations, apparently unconcerned by his lack of knowledge about the ingredients.

"How do you know what they do?" David asked.

Mike popped another baking sheet into the oven. "Master Splinter taught me."

"And how does he know?"

"Watching Tang Shen," Mike said, referring to the woman Leonardo had mentioned in his story.

"Is that so?" David crossed his arms. "This completely ordinary rat mastered martial arts _and_ the making of herbal medicines. Was he also accomplished in orbital mechanics, architecture, and composing piano concertos?"

"No," Mike said, "but he's a damn good dad and you shouldn't talk about him like that." He paused, resting the pestle in the bowl, and looked at David with a sad expression. "What's your deal, bro? Has your life been that bad, that you just hate everyone?"

"I don't hate everyone," David said.

"You sure seem to hate _us_." Mike resumed his work, but with somewhat less energy than before. "Is it something we said?"

"It's _everything_ you said," David replied. "How am I supposed to believe any of this?"

"Uh," said Mike, "don't take this the wrong way, but you believed you're a human who looks like a big turtle."

"Exactly," David said, "and now you're telling me I'm a turtle who's mostly like a human. How is that a more plausible story?"

Mike put down his tools and gave David a hug.

After a long moment, David put his arms around Mike. And after a moment longer, he said, "Oh. So that's what it's like to hug someone with a shell."

"You believe what you want to believe, bro," Mike said, retrieving his dried plants from the oven as though nothing special had just happened. "You do what you want to do. We just hope we get to be part of it, because whoever we are, wherever we came from, it's hard to deny we're some kind of family. And we think that matters a lot."

David was silent, watching the two mixtures developing on the kitchen counter. "Why are you making two different things?" he asked, after a while.

"Cuz one would just be lonely," Mike said.

"No, seriously," David said.

Mike pushed a pile of leaves slowly towards the back of the counter, as though doing so might make the question go away. "You gotta ask Leo," he said, when David's steady gaze made it clear that outright evasion was not going to work.

* * *

After dinner, David sidled up to Leonardo, who lingered by the kitchen window after Mike and Raph took off for an evening run.

"So," he said. "You seem to be the person in charge around here."

"I am," Leonardo said, and there was a weight in his voice David couldn't quite parse.

"I'm impressed," David said. "You planned and executed a kidnapping and escape from the city, you found us a nice place to stay, and you're more or less keeping order. And you're - how old?"

"Fifteen," Leo said.

"Fif-" David began to echo, before his brain caught up with what he was saying. "Wait. How can you be fifteen? I'm fifteen."

"I know you are," said Leo. He still hadn't looked away from the window. "So are Mike and Raph."

David furrowed his brow. "Are you saying we're quadruplets?"

Leo shrugged. "That's how it works with turtles."

David moved back towards the table, and Leo followed him. "Is that what all of this is about?" he asked. "Trying to convince me I'm a turtle?"

"We're not here to convince you of anything," Leonardo said, as he settled back into one of the chairs. "You are what you are. We're just trying to give you some time to accept it."

"I -" David started, but Leonardo cut him off, sliding a hand over his.

"David, we understand. We know what it's like, to be this way. Do you think we haven't wanted to be human?" He shook his head. "Forget what Raph said. We've had a lot of time to think about this, and we've decided it's better to stay the way we are." He held David's gaze. "We don't want you to rush into a decision you'll regret. The treatment you told us about… it will be there later."

David looked away. "Leo, this isn't a hard decision for me. There's nothing about _this_ that I want."

"Give us a chance," Leonardo said. "If you still feel that way in a few days, what have you lost?"

David squeezed his eyes shut. "Only a few days? And then I can go home?"

"Of course," Leonardo said.

David looked at his brother again, reading his expression carefully. "And what are we going to be doing for those few days?"

Leonardo leaned forward, spreading his hands on the table. "David," he said. "I know what you're doing. I didn't get where I am by telling everyone what my plans are." The side of his mouth quirked up as he pushed out of his chair. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Way to build trust, Leo," David murmured to the empty room.


	10. Chapter 10

He made his move at 2:00 AM. The house was silent as he pulled off the plastic mask and disconnected the IV lines, tucking everything back into the wire basket that hung from the metal pole. Snowflake butted sleepily against his hand, expressing that she didn't think it was time to get up, but if her master did, then she certainly believed it was time for breakfast.

David closed the door on her as he headed downstairs.

He couldn't move as silently as his brothers, but he made his best effort. Contrary to expectation and literary requirement, the steps of the old house were not creaky at all. In a minute he was flicking on the light in the kitchen and crossing to the phone.

And that's when his plans were foiled.

He had noticed right away, the previous morning, that the phone was a rotary dial. That was okay; his mom had had one in their apartment until just a few years ago, when he had browbeaten her into getting a touchtone. He knew how to use a rotary dial.

What he hadn't realized from across the room was that the dial was missing. All the phone had was the sticker with the ten digits in their circular arrangement, and the pin that the dial should have spun on.

Damn it.

David leaned one hand against the wall, thinking. He could solve this. He had heard about this. He pressed his other hand to his face and tried to remember.

Some of the older members of the hacking forums he hung around on liked to talk about a kind of phone hacking they used to do. They had called it _phreaking_. They had ways of making free calls from payphones, ways of patching into corporate phone systems, even ways of spoofing numbers. David had made fun of them for being so old.

But they also had a way of dialing a phone that was locked, where you couldn't push the buttons or spin the dial. One afternoon when he'd had nothing better to do, David had read a long, patronizing post about how back in the old days, when hacking was hard and phreakers had had real skillz, they had used a trick called…

Tone dialing.

David pushed off the wall and picked up the receiver. "Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself.

Quickly, carefully, he tapped the lever the receiver hung on. Once for one, twice for two… through the ten digits of his home phone number.

The line started ringing. David held his breath.

"Hello?"

The voice didn't sound right, but he blurted out, "Mom, it's me."

The briefest pause, but it felt like an eternity. Had he gotten the wrong number?

"David, honey, where are you?"

He almost cried. Not his mom, but the right number.

He pressed the phone closer to his ear. "Aunt Terri, where's my mom?"

"Worried sick, is where she is," Terri said, without a hint of a reprimand. "She's out looking for you. D, honey, you need to call my cell phone. Do you know the number?"

"No," David said.

"Here you go," Terri said, and read him the number. David memorized it and repeated it back. "You got it," she said. "I'll see you soon, D."

David wasn't too sure about that, but he just said, "Thanks, Aunt Terri," and hung up.

So far, so good. He picked up the receiver again and painstakingly tone-dialed the other number. It rang three times before the line clicked into silence.

David looked at the receiver, not knowing what to do.

"How do I -" came a voice faintly. "Is it - Oh, it's on? Hello?"

With a strange sense of unreality, David brought the phone back to his ear. "Mom?"

"David?"

"Mom, you are so embarrassing."

It was like she didn't even hear him. "David, where are you? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, with his whole body this time. "The guys have weird ideas about how sleepovers work. Listen - I don't know where we are, but we drove for what was probably a few hours and they said we were going to some place called Northampton."

"Northampton!" Mom shouted at someone. "They're in Northampton! David, how did you get to Northampton?"

"Some guy named Casey Jones gave us a ride," David reported.

"Yes!" Mom shouted. "Casey Jones! David, your mother is not so stupid after all."

"Okay," David said uncertainly. "But Mom, please find me. I think they're planning to kill me."

"What -" Mom started, and then there was a scuffle on the other end of the line before a completely different voice said, "They are not planning to kill you."

David blinked at the wall. "Mr. Splinter?"

"If they had been planning to kill you," Splinter said, "you would already be deceased, and please be assured that their own demises would be imminent."

"I don't like where this conversation is going," David said.

"What else can you tell us of your location?" Splinter asked.

"I don't know," David said. "There's nothing here. It's a big old house. A lake. Some woods."

"Have you gone north or south?"

David glanced at the kitchen doorway, afraid of being caught. "How should I know?"

"What have you observed about the stars?" Splinter pressed.

"I don't know." David glanced towards the window, but there was only his own reflection. "I can see them?"

"You have much to learn," Splinter said, which David thought was an entirely inappropriate comment, given the situation.

"Are you asking me to learn astronomical navigation?" he asked. "I just tone-dialed a rotary phone. That's all the ancient technology I can handle for one night."

A long silence. "Talk to your mother," Splinter said.

"David, how can we call you back?" Mom asked.

He was going to die from embarrassment - if his brothers didn't get him first. "Mom, you're on a cell phone. Just look at the call record." He glanced at the doorway again. "But don't call me back, okay? Use reverse look-ups to find the address."

"Reverse look-up?" said Mom. "What's a reverse look-up?"

"Mom -"

"Oh, never mind. April knows."

"You're with April?" David could feel his face flushing. "Tell her I said hi."

"You can tell her yourself," Mom said. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Okay." David squeezed the phone. "I love you, Mom."

A soft sigh. "I love you too, D."

"Bye."

"Bye."

Gently, he put the phone back in the cradle. Before tiptoeing back to bed, he liberated a huge roasting pan from a cabinet under the counter and filled it with food from the pantry. Smuggling this back to his room, he set it on the desk next to the baskets of medicines. Snowflake ignored him as he propped the chair under the doorknob again and threaded the IV needles back into his veins. He was ready for anything.

But afraid of what might happen in the morning, he barely slept.


	11. Chapter 11

After hanging up, Dr. Lamb looked at the phone as though she thought David might jump out of it. (Maybe she really did. April had learned not to overestimate her former employer's competence with technology.)

Then she held out the flip-phone - still folded open - to April. "Find my son," she commanded.

"On it." April palmed the phone, turning towards her computer. She knew a database where she could do a reverse look-up, locating the street address associated with the phone number. In a few button presses she had brought up the cell phone's call record.

She got two paces further and then stopped, her computer chair still an arm's length away.

"What's the matter?" Dr. Lamb asked.

"The number is screened," April said. "It's all zeroes." She turned around to show her former employer the problem. "Whoever owns this number doesn't want to be found."

Splinter had declined to view the string of zeroes on the phone's monochrome screen, but he lowered his ears at April's explanation. "When someone does not want to be found, it often is not a good sign."

"Right," Dr. Lamb agreed. "What do we really know about this Casey Jones character, not to mention about any contacts he may have?" She looked at Splinter. "You said Raphael wouldn't be friends with a disreputable person. But - he's the loud complainer, right? Is he really such a good judge of character?"

Demonstrating impressive restraint, Splinter was silent a moment and then said, "It serves nothing to discuss Raphael's personal qualities at this time. Miss O'Neil, what other methods might we employ to locate our sons?"

"I think it serves a lot," Dr. Lamb said. "If our kids have been duped into accepting a ride from a near-stranger with questionable motivations, and if he deliberately took them to some untraceable location for nefarious purposes, that seems important to know."

"I might still be able to get the number," April said to Splinter, ignoring Dr. Lamb's comments. "While I work on that, you can search maps of the Northeast, looking for any place called Northampton."

Splinter nodded. "We will proceed as you say."

"Excuse me," Dr. Lamb said, as April went into the kitchen to rummage through her drawer of highway maps. "To my point?"

"Believe me," Splinter said, "I understand your concern. We will continue our search with all possible speed. I do not think attacking my son's judgment will assist us in doing so."

"His judgment isn't the only thing I want to attack," Dr. Lamb said. "Your kids kidnapped my son. I don't think they realize how much danger they've put him in."

"I assure you," Splinter said, as April returned to the living room with a sheaf of accordion-folded maps, "right now our children are much safer with each other than they would be with us. My sons are trained for many eventualities and will take excellent care of David. Nonetheless, when they return him, their adventure will not go unpunished."

Dr. Lamb seemed only slightly mollified as she snatched the maps from April and settled on the floor in front of the TV to spread them out. April was fairly certain her former employer was north of fifty by now, but she had the energy and agility of a much younger woman. Splinter, of course, seemed to prefer sitting on the floor, and had no difficulty lowering himself onto the carpet.

"You take north," Dr. Lamb said, separating out the maps for New England and passing them to Splinter. "I'll take south, and we'll meet in Pennsylvania. April, get to work on that special reverse look-up."

"Excuse me," April felt compelled to say. She was no longer a college student, and even when she had been, she had felt that this behavior from her boss was somewhat unacceptable. "I don't work for you anymore, Dr. Lamb. You broke into my apartment and threatened me with a knife. I'm helping you out as a favor, because David is a great kid."

"Technically," Dr. Lamb said, without looking up from her intense scrutiny of the state of Virginia, "Splinter broke into your apartment and threatened you with a knife. I just followed him."

"Right," April said. She didn't usually back down from that kind of fight, but right now it wasn't in anyone's interest to bicker about the inappropriateness of Dr. Lamb's behavior, and whether any of her actions had crossed the line from inconsiderate to illegal. She moved back towards her computer. "By the way, what did David want to say to me on the phone?"

"Just hi," Dr. Lamb said absently.

"Hi?" April said. She couldn't help smiling as she settled into the chair and got to work. "Is he flirting with me? I swear he was flirting with me when he was eight."

"Better not be," Dr. Lamb said. "He has a girlfriend. Also he's not allowed to date seriously until he's at least sixty."

"Is that why you're still single?" April couldn't help asking.

"Watch it, young lady."

"This girlfriend," Splinter said carefully, as he studied the map of Maine. "May I ask, is the Anna who is David's girlfriend the same Anna whom I met yesterday?"

"Oh, yes," Dr. Lamb said, and she didn't seem especially pleased about it.

"I do not mean to be insulting," Splinter said, "but have I misunderstood what is meant by _hot_?"

"You have not," Dr. Lamb said.

"Wait," said April. "Is the Anna who is David's girlfriend the same Anna who he used to always complain about being not so bright?"

"The very same," Dr. Lamb confirmed.

"Why -" April started, but Dr. Lamb interrupted, stabbing her finger at the edge of the map.

"I've got it. Northampton County, Virginia." She looked up. "It's way out on the barrier island. Who knows how they got there, but let's go."

April didn't move. "There has to be more than one Northampton, Dr. Lamb," she said. "Let's find them all, and then try to narrow it down."

Dr. Lamb wasn't happy about this plan, but April's hunch turned out to be right. In short order, Dr. Lamb also located a Northampton County in North Carolina, along the Virginia border. With a ruler and some math, however, she calculated that it would take at least six hours to drive from Manhattan to either of those counties, putting them well outside the distance David thought he and his brothers had traveled.

Further study of the maps turned up a Northampton in central New York, a Northampton on the east end of Long Island, and a Northampton in western Massachusetts. When Splinter and Dr. Lamb converged on the map of Pennsylvania, they located two Northampton Townships and a third Northampton County. While they worked, Splinter related to April the additional clues that David had been able to give them during the phone call.

"Now what?" Dr. Lamb asked, after recording all of their findings on a pad of post-it notes that April tossed to her.

"Now we do some detective work," April said. "A big house with a lake and some woods. It's not much to go on, but we can take a look at which Northamptons might have rural areas with large properties."

"Remember where David has grown up, though," Dr. Lamb said. "He might be talking about a modestly-sized single-family home with a puddle and two trees."

"Good point," April said. "I'll do the best I can - and we'll hope he calls us back."


	12. Chapter 12

David must have slept a little, because he was woken by an insistent knocking, followed by someone trying to open the bedroom door.

"Hey, D, it's - Huh?"

The door jiggled back and forth. The chair screeched against the floor, but held firm.

"What's the matter, Mike?" someone shouted from downstairs.

"The door's jammed."

"Want me to kick it in?"

"No, I'll go around." Mike raised his voice. "I'm coming, D!"

That wasn't exactly comforting. David nudged Snowflake under the covers and pulled the blankets up like a shield.

In a second, Mike appeared outside the window, pressing his nose to the glass. "Hey, you're awake," he said, his voice muffled by the pane. "Your door is -" His eyes flicked up, and his face fell as he registered the chair wedged under the doorknob. "Aw, bro, really? You're trying to keep us out?"

David pulled his oxygen mask down, letting the plastic cup flop loose around his neck. "Yes, I'm trying to keep you out. _You're_ trying to kill me."

Mike furrowed his brow. "I'm pretty sure we're not trying to kill you." His expression relaxed; he didn't seem to think there was anything unusual about carrying on a conversation through a closed window. "Did Raph tell you that? He threatens to kill us all the time. It's how he shows his love."

"I'm not coming out," David said.

"I know you gotta eat," Mike said. For all his seeming airheadedness, he did catch on quick. "I'm making omelettes."

"No, thanks." David gestured towards the roasting pan on the desk, the IV lines attached to his arm swinging with the movement. "I have plenty of cereal."

Mike craned his neck to see what David was pointing at. "I thought the pantry seemed emptier this morning. I figured Raph just went on one of his late-night snack binges." He settled back, looking at his brother again. "But you gotta come out sometime."

"I really don't," David said. "I've spent my entire life in a Manhattan apartment. I survived the Y2K bug with a mother who thinks technology ended at the abacus. We _still_ haven't eaten all the canned food she stockpiled. I can hole up in here for a _long_ time."

"Look," Mike said. "Bro. I totally feel you. But Leo's orders are you're going to the lake today. We don't want to break Casey's house and drag you out of there."

"Well, good," David said. He sat up slowly, pressing the oxygen mask to his face for a moment before pulling it off over his head and hanging it back on the IV pole. He reached down to turn off the CPAP machine, then pulled out the IV needles and tucked them into their sterilization case. "I'm going to make breakfast," he said, and Snowflake chased his ankles as he crossed the room to retrieve a box of cereal.

He'd forgotten to appropriate dishes or silverware, so he just shook the bran flakes into his mouth, straight from the box, while sitting cross-legged on the bed. "I would be in so much trouble if I were at home right now," he commented.

Mike had settled on the wide porch roof, his back to the window. "Why?"

"My mom doesn't allow food anywhere but the kitchen," David said. He crunched another mouthful of cereal. "I feel so rebellious right now."

"How would your mom feel about you climbing on the roof?" Mike asked.

"She'd kill me," David replied without hesitation.

"You seem to think a lot of people want to kill you," Mike said.

David lowered the box, looking at the greatly-magnified raisin on the front without really seeing it. "My mom always told me I was an accident. A reject. A loose end. Someone's science experiment gone wrong. And if they ever found me again, they'd kill me."

"Yeah," Mike said. "That's kind of what our dad told us too."

Snowflake stuck her entire head inside the cereal box, and David pushed her away. "Who is TCRI?" he asked.

Mike understood the reference to the mysterious broken canister that bound them together. "We really don't know," he said. "Maybe you can help us find out."

"I looked," David said. "I got several possible hits, but the most likely is an organization called the Techno Cosmic Research Institute. I had my friends check them out - their ownership, their tax records. Nothing. They're too clean. It's got to be a front for something."

"Like what?" Mike asked.

David breathed, in and out. He'd been thinking about this for weeks, piecing together a theory. "You're not going to like this," he said. "But Splinter's story - it makes no sense and no one can really corroborate it. What if TCRI is a front for the kind of renegade science lab my mom always thought created me? What if _I'm_ not one of their experiments, but Splinter is? A human turned half-rat, or a rat turned half-human… it doesn't really matter. What if he escaped with a vial of retrovirus in solution, and then, out of loneliness or sadism or whatever, he used it on some babies? Human babies, turtle babies… again, doesn't matter. One, he got rid of because it was too defective. The other three he held prisoner through fear, telling them they had nowhere to go because anyone except him would kill them on sight." He looked up, at the shadow of leaves on the wall. "Now you're learning he lied to you. You have friends. They helped you escape. Are you going to go back?" He turned slowly to fix Michelangelo with a steady gaze. "Or are you going to hold on to your freedom?"

Mike stared back at him. "Bro," he said, with a completely straight face. "You are tripping. I don't even know if you seriously believe that, or if you're just feeding me a story. I thought _I_ was good at manipulating people, but damn, D."

David turned slowly away, as though he didn't care what Michelangelo decided.

"But let me tell _you_ a story," Mike went on. "_We_ helped _you_ escape. And like we said, we'll take you back if you want to. But right now you are living it up, eating cereal in bed. And if you want to climb out on the roof, you can see the most amazing sunrise, and I promise I won't ever tell your mom that you're a rule-breaking badass."

David glanced at the window. He could tell the sun was low in the sky, but it was too far around the corner of the house, where he couldn't see it. He had never seen a real sunrise before; back in New York there were too many buildings surrounding his own.

"You won't push me off the roof?" he asked guardedly.

"I won't push you off the roof," Mike said. "I only do that to Raph. It's how I show my love."

With a firm "stay" to Snowflake, David unlatched the window, pushed up the pane, and stuck his head out into the cool morning air.

Mike helped him climb onto the gently-sloped shingles, held him steady as he peered around the side of the house at the sun and then squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness.

"I don't know why I'm doing this," David said, as he cautiously sat down beside his brother.

Mike put an arm around him. "You want your freedom more than you're scared of dying," he said simply. "Every story is a little bit true."


	13. Chapter 13

They sat there a while longer, listening to birds neither of them could identify, watching the light spread across the landscape. David wasn't sure how long it had been before the door banged below them and he saw the top of Raph's head emerge from under the edge of the porch roof.

Raph strode a few paces out into the yard, then turned on his heel and looked directly at his brothers.

"What are you two knuckleheads doing up there?" he demanded. "We getting breakfast before it's time for lunch?"

"Excuse me," Mike said, without budging from his casual position, legs extended and ankles crossed. "It's David's first time voluntarily going outside. I think the phrase you're looking for is 'Congratulations.' Also, 'Wow, what a beautiful morning.'"

"Yeah, whatever," Raph said, with only a perfunctory look at the scenery, more a scan for danger than an appreciative gaze at the softly-lit rural scene. "Leo's gonna be pissed if we don't get moving."

"Since when do you care about that?" Mike said. "Pissing off Leo is like his favorite game," he added, leaning towards David as though this were confidential information.

"So I've been gathering," David replied.

"Don't make me come up there," Raph said, pointing a thick, threatening finger.

"Can he do that?" David asked.

"Oh yeah," Mike said. "Climbing up buildings is kinda what we do." With a theatrical grunt that clearly did not reflect the actual amount of effort it took for him to stand up, he got to his feet, extending a hand to David. "Come on, dude. The people are gonna riot if I don't cook their breakfast for them." He said this last in a tone loud enough to ensure Raphael could hear him.

Whatever Raphael replied was not loud enough for David to hear _him_, but the front door banged again, and David let Mike help him climb back in through the window, and then he shut the pane while Mike moved the chair and opened the door.

"Hey, everybody," Mike said loudly, pushing David ahead of him as they entered the kitchen. "It's David! We got his door unstuck. These old houses, amirite?"

David wasn't sure why Mike was covering for him, but he decided not to say anything.

"Let's get moving," Leo said. He had put a pan on the stove, and was standing near it as if to ensure it didn't wander off. "We're losing daylight."

"Chill, bro," Mike said, as he began efficiently cracking eggs into the pan. "You know the sun literally just came up, right? We have, like, eleven hours until it gets dark."

"And at the rate you're moving we're going to need all of them," Leo said in a soft tone, leaning uncomfortably close to Mike before walking away as though he hadn't just engaged in subtle intimidation tactics against his own brother.

Mike didn't seem to mind, and as he fried the omelettes he carefully guarded the kitchen against any intrusion of silence.

"So. D," he said. "I know you're not really cool with the whole outdoors thing yet, so I found you some shoes that will maybe fit -" He nodded to a pair of old-fashioned but indestructible-looking boots sitting by the back door. "- and also I'm bringing blankets so you don't have to sit on the ground."

"Thanks," David said, and he almost really meant it.

"Are you serious?" Raph said. "All that just so he don't have to touch the grass?"

"Yeah," Mike said, challenging anyone to question him again. "And all _this_ just so _you_ don't have to get your own bowl of cereal." He served the steaming omelettes with a professional flourish. "Aren't I just the nicest guy?"

David had to admit that Michelangelo had a way of making sure everyone's needs were taken care of. He even brought David a fork this time, and noticed right away when David didn't eat his omelette with sufficient gusto.

"Something wrong with it?" Mike asked. "You want ketchup?"

"No, it's okay," David said, putting his fork down. "It's just that I ate already. I can't eat too much at once."

Without discussion, the other three brothers divided the remains of David's omelette between them, by the simple expedient of grabbing as much of it as they could, eying each other suspiciously the whole time.

"I'm going to -" David started.

"You're going to nothing," Leonardo said, wiping flecks of omelette from his mouth with the back of his hand. "We're leaving right now."

"Put your shoes on," Mike said as he gathered up the plates, and he seemed to think there was nothing odd about referring to Casey's heirloom footwear as belonging to David.

David thought it was better not to argue.

He did, however, balk at the threshold, when Leonardo opened the kitchen door and gestured him out.

"He ain't gonna do it," Raph growled, as David backed up a step and eyed the world beyond the doorframe with the same mistrust as the day before.

"Rule-breaking badass with nothing to lose," Michelangelo said, as though this were a sentence that had any meaning to anyone other than himself and David.

Raph looked at him as though he had lost his mind. "Say what?"

David took a deep breath. "Right." And he strode out into the dusty yard.

His brothers followed. Or, rather, they accompanied him in their own unique styles. Leonardo led the four of them, insisting that they follow the exact path he had planned the day before. Michelangelo stuck close to David's side, encouraging him literally every step of the way. And Raphael circled, his hands on the daggers in his belt, daring anything to attack or impede them.

It was disorienting. It was the first time he had walked outside in daylight without a hood pulled tight over his head, and the lack of a ceiling above him made him feel like he was going to either fall over or float off the ground. He found that despite being able to see the path in front of him, he could not judge the length of it. Everything seemed very close and very far away at the same time. The tall grass under his feet rippled in the wind, making the ground seem to move, unsettling his footing. His toes jammed against the thinly-padded inside of the boots, causing little spikes of pain. At least it was better than stepping directly on all those rough, pointy-looking plants.

Before he knew it, he was at the lake, and he was exhausted.

"You did awesome, bro," Mike was saying, as he hurriedly flapped open the blankets bundled in his arms, and helped David sit on them. "So good at this."

"Can I go home now?" David said, and he heard his own voice like the trees and the lake, close and far away at the same time.

"No," Leonardo said. He had remained standing, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. "You're going swimming."

"I don't know how to swim," David said.

"You'll know what to do," Leonardo replied, and his calm tone conveyed either total confidence in David's ability, or alarming disinterest in whether his prediction turned out to be true.

"It is not remotely plausible that you can hold your breath for half an hour," David said.

Leonardo turned to Raph with that same unflappable calm. "Raphael, _setsumei suru_."

"You know -" Raph took his hands from the daggers, cracked his knuckles, and looked at the lake. "Just once in a while, I like your orders."

And with a whoop, he charged towards the water and dived in.

Nobody said anything until after the ripples died away, ricocheting off the sandy shoreline and crashing back into themselves until they evened out.

"That wasn't a very strategic admission, was it?" Leonardo commented to Mike.

"I don't know anything about strategy," Mike replied. "I'm just always big on sharing how we feel."

"I am hating everything about this," David said loudly, eliciting a sympathetic "mmm" from Mikey and absolutely no such response from Leonardo.

"I'm sure you're also going to hate taking your clothes off," Leonardo said instead.

"I am not taking my clothes off."

"You're not going swimming with them on."

"I'm not going swimming _at all_."

"Trust me," Leonardo said, which David really didn't. "You don't want to do this involuntarily."

"Shouldn't Raph have come up by now?" David asked. He wasn't really sure how long a person _should_ be able to hold their breath, but it seemed as though far too many seconds had ticked by.

Leo and Mike just shrugged, and turned their eyes to the lake.

David counted at least four more minutes before Raphael came slogging up out of the water, looking delighted with the whole experience. "It sure ain't the East River," he said, as he came over and dripped on the blankets, probably on purpose.

"Are you implying you go swimming in the East River?" David asked.

Raph wiped the beaded water from one muscled arm, flicking it towards Michelangelo, definitely on purpose. "Yup."

David pulled his feet away from the growing wet spot. "Do you know what the pollution loads are in the East River?"

"Not a clue," Raph said, in a tone that strongly suggested he did not care to learn.

David opened his mouth to enlighten him anyway, but Leo smoothly spoke over him. "Raphael, would you like to peel David out of his clothes and throw him in the lake?"

"Sure would," Raphael replied, already moving to do exactly that. "Damn, Leo, you're really getting good at this leader thing all of a sudden."

As David shrank away from the oncoming indignity, Leonardo somehow restrained his musclebound brother with nothing more than a small gesture. "David, would you like Raphael to peel you out of your clothes and throw you in the lake?"

"Hell no!" David squeaked, an octave too high.

"Then I suggest you take care of it yourself," Leonardo said, and seemed to think that settled the argument.

David hugged himself protectively, as Raph watched him with a predatory stare, and Leo just plain watched him.

"Wow, super helpful," said Mike, who had been uncharacteristically quiet while this conversation went on. "Seriously, guys, could you back off like two inches?"

Leo and Raph exchanged a look, then silently withdrew to a spot on the lakeshore just out of earshot.

Michelangelo looked at David with an expression of earnest honesty. "I promise it's gonna be okay," he said.

"Is there any way I'm going to get out of this?" David asked.

"Absolutely none."

David closed his eyes, unbuttoned his pajama shirt, and shrugged out of it. He knew Michelangelo could see everything - his skinny arms, the track marks from his IV needles and insulin injections, the bony plating that crushed the air out of him. The pale yellow stripes that he'd actually kind of liked until he realized his brothers didn't have them. Leonardo had seen it all and hadn't said anything, but Mike wasn't as good at keeping his mouth shut.

"It's cool," Mike murmured.

Still without opening his eyes, wishing he were anywhere but here, David toed out of the borrowed boots and slid off his backwards pants, shifting to keep his tail hidden under himself. He hadn't been able to help noticing that his brothers had them too, but he was still more sensitive about that than about any other part of his hopelessly deformed body.

"You gonna be able to walk?" Mike asked, in that same, soft tone.

"Yeah," David said, and keeping his eyes on the ground, not accepting Mike's outstretched hand, he lifted himself to his feet and shuffled towards the water. "You're not going to let me drown?" he asked, as his brothers surrounded him, their silent strength reassuring and terrifying in almost equal measures.

"We're not going to let you drown," Leonardo said, and together they led him into the water.

His feet squished in mud that he couldn't see, and he was pretty sure there were _fish_ down there, and the hard bodies of his brothers wouldn't let him back up, and then he was chest-deep in the lake and Michelangelo was whispering in his ear.

"Breathe. Don't panic. You were born for this."

And they held his hands, and pulled him down.

He didn't know how long he floated in the airless dark. Without sight, without the rhythm of breathing, time didn't seem to matter. A part of his brain that he hadn't known he had, that seemed to be in no hurry to go anywhere or do anything, took over his body, holding him safe in the void.

He would have expected a compulsion to tread water. He would have expected a desperation to get to the surface. Instead he just hung there, neutrally buoyant a few feet below the rippling line between lake and sky, and inhaling again seemed like something he could get around to whenever.

His lungs were still expressing total satisfaction with the situation when his arms lifted and he felt his brothers pulling him back up.

When they broke the surface, his feet automatically began to paddle, and it seemed to take no effort to hold himself at just the right depth. His brothers were watching him as he tried to process what had just happened.

"Can - Can we do that again?" he asked.

This time they pulled him horizontal, helping him swim through a shallower area of the lake, letting him take his time looking at the strange plants and the darting fish and the little animals that burrowed in the sand. They didn't take him up until he squeezed their hands. Instinct simply told him when to stick his nose above the surface and draw breath.

His brain didn't quite process exiting the water. The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the blankets in the warm sun, and there seemed to be no great urgency to put his clothes back on.

"How do you feel?" Michelangelo asked.

"I think I'm having an extreme reality crisis," David replied. "How was that possible?"

"You're a Turtle," Michelangelo said. Then he stretched out on his stomach, and soon they all did, and the comfortable sleepiness that came over them was an excellent way for David to avoid the question of what, exactly, he was.

* * *

They left him alone for most of the rest of the day, letting him process in his own time. In the evening, though, Leonardo knocked on David's bedroom door, and pushed it open without waiting for a response, and it quickly became apparent that Raphael and Michelangelo were standing right behind him.

"We showed you our world," Leonardo said, in a deferential tone markedly different from his usual authoritative cadences. "Will you show us yours?"

David, who was sitting on the bed, dressed in his pajamas again, but with one sleeve rolled up as he prepared for his bedtime routine, thought a minute, and then gestured them in.

They knelt on the floor in front of him, arranging themselves in a row without discussion.

"This is my CPAP machine," David began, laying a hand on the little black unit standing at the corner of the bed. "Continuous Positive Airway Pressure. I have trouble inflating my lungs when I'm lying down, so it helps me not stop breathing at night."

He moved his hand to the looping lines of the IV needles. "This is…" He hesitated. "Well, you don't want to know what this is. A lot of things that keep me alive."

He gestured to the basket at his side. "My glucose meter and insulin. I don't have enough of a hormone involved in the absorption of nutrients from food, so the sugars just accumulate in my blood and cause me to pass out. I have to check my blood glucose levels a couple of times a day and give myself more insulin so I don't die."

He fingered through the basket until he uncovered a fat syringe marked with a red band. "Diazepam. In case of life-threatening emergency."

He could see his brothers growing more and more upset as they finally grasped the magnitude of what a constant struggle it was for him to just keep body and soul together. "And what's that?" Michelangelo asked, pointing to the tall gooseneck lamp that stood over the bed.

"My spectrum lamp," David said. "I don't synthesize enough vitamin D, so I need additional UV exposure."

Leonardo looked truly distraught at all this information. "David," he said, "first, we are really sorry that you have to go through all of that. And second -" He spread his hands on the floor in front of him, and eased down into a prostrate posture. "Will you tutor us in English? Our vocabulary is… not as good as I thought."

David stared at him, not sure what to say. After a moment, Leonardo seemed to take this as a no, and sat back on his knees, looking uncomfortable. "You should rest," he said. "You'll need your energy tomorrow."

"Oh, god." David pulled Snowflake into his lap. "What are you making me do tomorrow?"

"Don't worry," Leonardo said. "You won't have to leave the house."


	14. Chapter 14

Over the course of the day, maps and post-it notes had spread across the floor until April's apartment looked like a full-on crime scene investigation.

April recognized it as a form of productive procrastination, a habit her friend Irma had been a master of back in college. The idea was to generate lots of activity that looked like progress, but that represented no real advance towards a worthwhile goal. As the end of each semester neared, Irma had always seemed to be cleaning her dorm room and researching "just one more thing," until April made her sit down and write her term papers.

Dr. Lamb and Splinter were not, of course, trying to avoid the task of finding their sons. They were simply dealing with their marked lack of success at that task by writing down any piece of information that might be barely relevant, and sticking it on a map somewhere. The result was a fascinating look into their brains, but it revealed nothing about where David and his brothers might be.

April was having not much better luck with her online research. Finally, in frustration, she looked up one more thing which she told herself was definitely relevant.

Dr. Lamb and Splinter looked up from their work as she reached for the phone and dialed an unfamiliar number.

"Hello?" said a voice, after a few rings.

"Hello," April said. "Is this Amanda Thayer?"

A short pause. "Amanda Mencken, now, but yes. Who is this?"

April's heart lifted. Maybe, just maybe, they were making progress after all. "Amanda, it's April O'Neil."

"April O'Neil…?" Amanda repeated slowly. "Wait, wait, wait." April waited, giving the other woman time to remember. "April from NYU soccer?"

"Yes, that's me!" April beamed at Dr. Lamb and Splinter, who were watching her in bafflement. "I can't believe you remember."

"Of course I remember," Amanda said. "Soccer was my life. Give me a minute and I could name every girl I ever played with."

"I bet you could," April said. "But listen, Amanda. I'm calling about something else that used to be your life. Do you still do that GIS thing?" she asked, referring to the special mapping software Amanda had studied as part of her geography major.

"Sure," Amanda said. "It's my job. But why are you calling me about that? April, I haven't heard from you in years."

"I know," April said. "I'm sorry. Life has been… kind of crazy."

"We should catch up," Amanda said. "You don't happen to be anywhere near Ohio, do you?"

"No," April said. "Amanda, I'm sorry to cut short the social call, but I need your mapping skills. I'm helping some friends with a missing children case."

"Missing children?" Amanda immediately turned serious. "Why don't you call the police?"

"It's… kind of complicated," April said. "We know they're in a place called Northampton, a few hours' drive from New York City, and it's a rural residential property with a lake and some woods. Do you think you can find it?"

"I'll do my best," Amanda said. "But April - are you or these kids in any trouble?"

"Their parents say they will be when they get home," April said. "Amanda, thank you so much. Call me as soon as you find anything, okay?" She gave Amanda her home phone number, and after some awkward "Talk to you soon's", they hung up.

"In the future," Splinter said, as soon as she put down the phone, "I would prefer if we did not include additional people."

"Likewise," said Dr. Lamb.

"Seriously?" April said. She had tried her best to be patient with the two distressed parents, but they had broken into her home in the middle of the night, ordered her around, eaten her food, and generally made a mess of the place, and they were getting on her last nerve. "I get the paranoia around the whole mutant thing, but name one person who has ever actually tried to hurt your kids."

"Dr. Stockman," Splinter replied immediately. "The Purple Dragons. A mysterious clan of ninja, whom I fear we will have many more dealings with in the future."

"You," Dr. Lamb added.

"Excuse me?" April spluttered.

Splinter nodded in agreement. "Did you not assist in creating the Mousers?"

"Well, yeah," April said, "but I didn't know Stockman was programming them to rob banks and attack people."

"And isn't it really your fault that Splinter's delinquent children have kidnapped my son?" Dr. Lamb pressed.

"Um, no," April said. "It's thanks to me that your son was reunited with his long-lost brothers. I am absolutely _not_ responsible for their decision to take him on an unscheduled road trip."

Splinter exchanged a look with Dr. Lamb. "You understand that we have some concerns about your judgment and foresight," he said.

"Wow, thanks," April said, and couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "You know, for all your terrible social skills, Dr. Lamb, I really respected you. I don't think I would have had the courage to open my own business if I hadn't seen you doing it all by yourself."

"When did you open a business?" Dr. Lamb asked.

"I have an antiques shop downstairs," April replied. "You would have known that if you'd come in the front door like a normal person."

"Well, good for you," said Dr. Lamb, totally ignoring the preceding rant. "Best of luck."

"Thanks, I guess," April said. "I -"

And then the phone rang. April turned to the receiver on her desk, only to realize that wasn't the one ringing.

When she turned back around, Dr. Lamb was tearing up the carefully-laid-out maps, searching for the cell phone that had gotten lost underneath them. She found it on the third ring, almost dropped it, then almost broke it wrenching it open.

"Put it on speaker," April said, as Dr. Lamb hunted for the "answer" button. "The one with the little curved lines."

Dr. Lamb stabbed the two buttons and pressed the phone to her ear, only to pull it away again when David's voice blasted out of it. "Mom?"

"David, I'm here." Dr. Lamb cradled the phone in her hands. "I'm here."

"Mom, please stop looking for me."

There was a silence as the three adults looked at the maps, now in disarray on the carpet. A long, stressful day's work, amounting to almost nothing, but precious for every clue they had found.

"What?"

"Mom, I'm okay. They're not going to kill me. I… I need to do some things. I want to stay here a while."

Dr. Lamb closed her eyes, bowing her head over the phone. "David, you're not making sense. Tell us more about where you are."

"_Mom_. Listen to me. I have food. I have medicine. I have Snowflake. I'm okay. I need to do this."

"You listen to _me_, young man," Dr. Lamb said, glaring at the phone now. "You are not going to play summer camp with those hooligans. You need to come home right now, or so help me. Now _where are you?_"

"God, you suck at bargaining," David said. "Thanks for telling me you have no idea where I am. You almost certainly haven't figured out how to set up a trace, but just in case you have, I'm going to get off the line now. Bye, Mom."

And he hung up.

Again, a silence.

"My god," Dr. Lamb said. "I'm raising a teenager."

"I envy you," said Splinter. "I am raising three."

Dr. Lamb looked at him, the phone still lying open in her cupped hands. "What happens when you put four teenagers in a house together?" she asked.

"Had fate been otherwise," Splinter replied, "I would have been able to tell you."


	15. Chapter 15

The next morning, David didn't have to be pried, bribed, cajoled, or otherwise coaxed out of his room. He simply took a hot shower in the upstairs bathroom his brothers had so generously given him exclusive use of, wished he had some clean clothes to put on, changed back into his pajamas, and settled on the couch in the living room while Mike made breakfast.

The couch was not in the same spot in the living room as it had been two days earlier. It had presumably been shoved against the wall by Leonardo - possibly single-handedly, David thought, considering his brothers' physiques - who was now using the empty space in the middle of the floor to move slowly through a series of unusual postures. David had never seen anybody stand in any of those poses, but Leonardo was doing it with an intense focus that suggested that something about these stances was extremely important to him.

Raphael, meanwhile, was showering in the downstairs bathroom, and unfortunately for everyone, he was singing.

"La-da-_deeee_, la-da-_diiii_, la-da- AI-YOW!"

Leonardo came slowly to a halt, freezing his pose and moving nothing but his head as he turned to look at the bathroom door. Nobody was looking at David, but he kept a perfectly straight face.

He heard the spray turn off with a _thunk_ of the water hammer in the old pipes, and then Raphael came out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his middle.

"Leo, the hot water's out," he complained.

"Then fix it," Leonardo said calmly.

"But that'll take all day!" Raphael objected.

"Then don't fix it," Leonardo replied, equally calmly.

"How'm I supposed to take a shower?" Raph demanded.

"Turn on water, stand underneath," Leo advised.

"But it's cold!" Raph shouted, flinging one arm towards the bathroom door, as though Leo hadn't understood the problem the first time. "Are _you_ gonna take a cold shower? I know you're not going to _not_ shower."

Mike popped out of the kitchen, waggling his brows. "Somebody need a stove bath? I found this huge tub in the barn."

"What barn?" David asked, at the possible risk of blowing his cover.

"Bro," Mike said, "you _gotta_ spend more time exploring this place." And with no further comment, he ducked back into the kitchen.

"I'm not takin' a stove bath!" Raph hollered after him.

"Sounds like you're running out of options," Leo said, in faint amusement, and pivoting smoothly to face front again, he resumed his mysterious activity.

Raphael said things in Japanese that were probably bad words, and disappeared in the direction of the basement, the towel still wrapped around his waist.

"How was _your_ shower?" Leonardo asked.

"Delightful, thank you," David replied, with nothing but innocence in his voice.

"Breakfast!" Mike yelled a minute later.

David got up and sauntered into the kitchen. Mike was putting big bowls of lumpy _something_ on the table.

"What is this?" David asked, eying the offering suspiciously. There seemed to be lots more of it bubbling in a big pot on the stove.

"Oatmeal," Mike said, and poked a spoon into David's hand.

"I don't think so," David said, making no move to point the spoon towards the contents of the bowl. "Oatmeal is thin watery stuff that comes out of a paper packet."

Mike looked at him, appalled. "Uh, no."

"Uh, yes," David said. "I've eaten it."

Mike just shook his head, taking his seat and picking up his bowl with two hands, apparently planning to slurp the gloppy stuff straight out of the dish. "You may have eaten it," he said, "but it isn't food."

David looked at Leo imploringly, but Leo only shrugged and lifted his own bowl. "We have strong disagreements about pizza toppings," he said, inclining his head towards Michelangelo, "and some of the things he calls snacks are truly disgusting. But if Mike cooks it, it's food." He tilted his bowl towards David in a kind of salute, then poured the contents into his mouth.

"I can't even watch this," David said, and then Raphael provided a welcome distraction.

"Damn thing's a fossil," he said, coming into the kitchen naked and covered in dirt, using the towel to wipe at the worst of the smudges. "I'm not dealing with it. I'll haul the tub in later. What'sa matter with you?" he said, dropping into his chair and gesturing to David's untouched bowl. "You eat already again? Or stuff served in bowls gives you a headache? What?"

"That's enough," Leo said quietly. "David, help yourself to something else."

"I left the non-sugary cereal in my room," David said. "I'll just go get it. Unless you're not going to let me leave the table again?"

Leo waved him off, as Raphael fell on his food like a starving person.

"Did you get him?" Leo was saying quietly, when David came back with the box of bran flakes hanging from one hand. He hesitated, and decided to see if he could get away with listening from the shadow of the doorway. "Is he here?"

"Yeah," Raph said. "Took a while, though. I suck at this, Leo. You sure you want me in there with you?"

"I don't know if I can make contact with him," Leo said. "Anyway, there should be three of us, and Mike can't."

"Yeah, bro," Mike said. "You don't want to trade jobs with me."

Raph grunted. "Is that stuff really gonna work?"

"Guaranteed," Mike said. "I've never had a recipe fail."

"Hold on," Leo said. "There was that time you gave me -"

"Uh-uh, no fair," Mike interrupted. "My recipe was fine. I told you not to drink that tea with it. Which reminds me, you all gotta detox before you do this."

David chose that moment to make his re-entrance. All three of his brothers turned towards him instantly, possibly realizing that he may have overheard something they hadn't wanted him to.

"So, D," Mike said. "How long did you say you could go without eating?"

"A couple of hours," David said guardedly, setting the cereal box on the counter.

Mike nodded. "Okay. Okay. And how long can you go without eating, for example, garlic?"

David narrowed his eyes. "Is there a reason for this line of questioning? Please tell me you don't put garlic in your oatmeal."

"Uh, no," Mike said. "Hey, can I see your box of cereal? Does it have one of those games on the back?"

"It doesn't," David said, but he gave Mike the box anyway, and watched as Mike none-too-subtly studied the nutrition facts on the side panel.

"Okay, this is food," Mike announced, after a long minute during which Raph and Leo pretended that nothing suspicious was going on. He held out the box to David. "You can eat it. I give you permission."

"Thanks," David said flatly, and took the box back with one hand while reaching for a clean bowl with the other. "I know you guys are plotting something," he said. "What are we doing today that I don't have to leave the house for?"

His brothers exchanged a look.

"We'll tell you everything tonight," Leonardo said. "In the meantime, don't eat anything Michelangelo doesn't give you permission for." He turned to Raphael with a sharp look. "That means you too."

"Yeah, yeah," Raph grumbled. "Can I eat this?" he asked, shaking his bowl at Mikey.

"Yep," Mike said.

"Can I eat that?" Raph asked, pointing at David's bowl of cooling oatmeal.

"Sure."

"I got no problem with this," Raph said.

"So glad to hear it," Leo said.

They all returned to their own breakfasts, and no one would give David any more information.

* * *

After a dinner of plain rice and vegetables, Leonardo herded everyone into the living room, and didn't permit anyone but himself to ask any questions.

"David," he began, "have you ever meditated?"

"No," David said. "Meditation is for hippies and monks in Tibet."

Leonardo looked affronted. "Meditation is for everyone. It increases situational awareness, self-control, and mental clarity."

"That's great," David said. "Can you get to the point?"

"This _is_ the point," Leo said. "We're going to meditate tonight. Not just meditate - go on a spirit quest."

"A spirit quest," David repeated flatly. "Sweat lodge and peyote spirit quest?"

"I don't know what those are," Leo said.

"Dropping acid spirit quest?" David asked.

Leo was quickly losing his patience with having lost control of the conversation. So much for the benefits of meditation, David thought. "A spirit quest is a sacred journey on the astral plane," Leo said. "It's achieved through supreme enlightenment, and leads to realization of a personal goal that can't be reached by earthly methods."

David looked at the grandfather clock in the corner, though it was just for show, since the clock was broken and had been displaying the same time since they'd arrived three days ago. "I don't know about you, Leo, but I haven't achieved supreme enlightenment yet, and I don't think I have time right now."

"You can also get to the astral plane by using drugs," Leo muttered through gritted teeth.

David regarded him. "Excuse me?"

"Don't call them drugs," said Michelangelo, who'd been silent up till now. "They're herbal medicines." He looked at David. "That's the second thing I was making - a recipe that helps free the spirit and send it to the astral plane."

"Aside from that sounding outrageously dangerous even in the normal course of things," David said, "maybe you still haven't gotten the memo that I have a screwed-up metabolic system that reacts unpredictably even to mild, well-tested, over-the-counter medications."

"You're a Turtle," Leonardo said. "Trust us, we know all about how human drugs don't always play well with our systems."

"I don't think you do," David said, getting up from the couch. He was taller than his brothers, and he was going to use that height advantage now, for whatever intimidation value it might give him. "_Diabetes_. Is a metabolic malfunction. That you do not have or understand. Whatever chemical substances do to you, I guarantee they _don't_ do the same thing to me."

"Bro." Mike had gotten up from the floor to put a hand on David's arm. "You gotta remember, Master Splinter has a system that's different from everybody else's too. He figured out what worked for him. He figured out what worked for us. He's an herbal medicine genius, and he taught me everything I know."

"That doesn't make _you_ an herbal medicine genius," David pointed out.

"Hey." Now Raph was on his feet too. "Don't dis Mike's genius. He ain't got a lot, but he's damn smart about _this_. He invented stuff Master Splinter didn't teach him, and it worked. So just shut your mouth until Mikey tells you to stick one of those medicine balls in it."

David glared at them all, then sat down, deciding to gather more intel before mounting another attack. "What's this spirit quest about, anyway?" he asked. "What are we supposed to be doing on this so-called astral plane?"

Leo watched him for a minute, and then, with a subtle hand signal to his brothers, they all sat down again. "Raphael, explain."

Raph's anger dissipated quickly, and he knit his fingers together, hunching forward and looking at the floor as he spoke. "You, uh… you remember my friend Donatello?"

David thought for a minute before the name registered. "Your old friend who I reminded you of?"

"Yeah," Raph said. "We, uh…" He paused, and then the words came out in a rush. "When I said you're him, we talked about it, and we think you're _actually_ him."

"That makes no sense," David said flatly. "It might make sense if Splinter got rid of me when I was older and you had a repressed memory of growing up with me, but we've already pretty well established that I got dumped when none of us were old enough to remember anything."

"Would you shut up and listen?" Raphael roared. "Damn, Leo, you say _I_ argue a lot when you try to talk. Aren't you glad we didn't grow up with this guy?"

"Just tell the story, Raph," Leo said coolly.

Raph took a moment to calm himself, then addressed the floor again. "Donnie was this kid," he said, "Turtle kid, who was always there, only nobody else could ever see him. When we were little, we played together. Then he helped me with lessons, cuz I'm an idiot, and I helped him with ninjutsu, cuz he had sucky coordination. He… he always told me I was a good teacher _and_ a good student. He was really good at lying to be nice that way.

"But then he got kinda mean, always telling me I was dumb and not worth anything. And he didn't want my help anymore. He was just always training by himself. He got a masakari - a damn scary weapon, kinda like an ax," Raph added, for David's benefit, "and he didn't read books or play games no more.

"And then, I dunno, maybe two or three years ago, he stopped talking to me at all. Always just hangin' out in corners, glaring at people. Don't do anything but glare and sharpen his ax. Think he's gonna kill me in my sleep one of these days," he muttered, and stopped there.

"And why do you think this has anything to do with me?" David asked, when no one else seemed inclined to fill the silence.

"Cuz it makes sense," Raph said, and before David could explain to them how it made _no_ sense, Raph nudged Mike in the arm. "You tell him."

"Okay." Mike held up his hands to illustrate the points he was about to make. "We said, well, we've always had this really strong spiritual connection. And what if that's not just because we grew up together and trained together and did everything together? What if it's really something about _us_? And if it is, then you should have a spiritual connection to us too." He circled his hands, encompassing the four of them. "And then we said, what if you did? What if you left behind a spirit-shadow of yourself, to stay connected to us? Only you were just a baby when you made the shadow, and a really sick baby, so the shadow was weak and only Raph could see it. And then, we're not sure why, the shadow lost its connection to _you_." Mike moved his hands apart, one fading down to his side, and the other remaining with a lone finger in the air. "So now it's just this orphaned spirit-shadow, and it's kind of gone crazy and evil from not being anchored to anything in the real world. And _you're_ mean and angry and getting sicker because you've lost part of your soul." He lifted both hands in an imploring gesture. "You need Donatello back, bro. And he needs you. You're two halves of the same person."

David crossed his arms, nearly the opposite of an illustrative gesture. "That is the most ludicrous thing I have ever heard."

"That is what you said yesterday about being able to hold your breath," Leonardo pointed out.

David sighed. "Yes, okay. But that was biologically ludicrous. This is - I mean, astral planes? Lost soul fragments? Those are things that don't exist at all."

"He exists," Raphael said flatly. "He's glaring at us all right now."

David's head jerked up. "What?"

Raphael pointed towards an empty corner of the room. "I've only ever seen him at home. When we moved, I didn't see him for a little while, and then he showed up. He followed us. We needed him to follow us here faster, so I meditated, trying to call him. I got him yesterday. He's standing right there."

"You are out of your mind," David said, though he was feeling less and less sure of that every minute.

"We'll find out," Leonardo said. "You and Raphael and I are going to try to make contact with Donatello on the astral plane. Michelangelo will stay out here to guard our bodies and keep an eye on the medicines. If we're right, and we're successful, you'll be able to re-integrate with the missing piece of your spirit. We think it will do you a lot of good."

"And if you're wrong or we fail?" David asked.

"Michelangelo swears we'll wake up feeling as though we had a pleasant nap with some strange dreams," Leonardo said with a straight face.

"You can't think I'm going to agree to this," David said.

"Once again," Leonardo said, "we're not giving you a choice."

"I've changed my mind again," David said. "You _are_ trying to kill me."

Leonardo reached up to press David's hand where it rested on his knee. "David," he said, "anyone who wants to kill you is going to have to go through us first. We are the only ones who can show you who you really are. If we're right, you're already half-dead, and we're the only ones who can save your life."

"Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?" David asked.

"Yes." Leo sat back on his knees and, from somewhere in his belt, produced the purple mask he had first given to David weeks ago. "You're not supposed to wear this _doji_ until you've reached third _dan_, but we decided to make you an honorary _genin_ because you're sick."

David stared at him. "I have no idea what you just said."

"That makes us about even." Leo stretched the strip of fabric across his upturned palms, and offered it forward. "Please wear it. If you had grown up with us, it would have been yours."

"Only because you make this sound so reasonable by contrast," David said, and with Raphael murmuring instructions for how to tie the knot correctly, he fixed the mask around his eyes.

When he looked up again, Leonardo was gazing at him fondly, his face tinged just slightly purple from the carefully-hemmed edges of the fabric. "_Otouto_," he murmured.

"If you are going to drug me," David said, "you had better do it before I recover my sanity."


	16. Chapter 16

_"You gotta be chill with him," Mike had said, as they heated water on the stove so they could take their turns bathing in the huge, cast-iron tub Raph had hauled in from the barn._

_(The thing was damn heavy. He should have asked for help, but he'd already had enough humiliation for one day.)_

_"He's got some control issues," Mike went on. "Kind of like Leo. You can't just give him orders, you have to tell him _why _he wants to do stuff."_

_"I don't have control issues," Leo said, and Raph thought that was the funniest thing he had heard all day._

_"He's scared," Mike went on, pouring another pot of steaming water into the tub, then refilling it from the sink and putting it back on the burner. "He's had to deal with all the same shit we have, plus more, and he's got, like, zero self-defense skills. You gotta make him feel safe."_

_"How do we do that on the astral plane?" Raph asked. His hands went to his trusty sai. "These do any good against spirits?"_

_"Only if you think they do," Leo replied. "The astral plane is all about mental energy. But if the astral representation of your sai helps you focus that energy, then yes, they should work as well as they do here."_

_"I don't like it, Leo," Raph said. "Not being able to punch something solid creeps me out."_

_"Don't worry about it." Leo dipped a hand into the tub, testing its heat. "Your job is to call Donatello. Any other spirits that answer will have to deal with me."_

* * *

Raph never liked taking the back seat in a fight. Being "chill" didn't come naturally to him either, but he did his best as they prepared for their spiritual journey.

Mike had lit candles and incense, filched from their supplies at home, and turned off the softly-buzzing overhead lights. Raph had slid onto the floor to join Leo, and in a moment David had done likewise.

"Have you ever done this before?" David asked quietly.

"Not really," Leo admitted. "I've _glimpsed_ the astral plane, but I haven't _been_ there."

"I've never seen it at all," Raph said. "I dunno what the hell we're doing." David's level of alarm rose visibly, and Raph quickly backtracked. "But, I mean, we've been training for this forever. Trained to fight forever, too, and the first time we did that for real we kicked major ass, so, you know. 'S gonna be fine."

To Raph's relief, Mike rescued him by showing up at that moment with two plates. One had two medicine balls on it, and the other had just one. Mike balanced them with practiced ease as he knelt into _seiza_.

"This one's yours," he said, offering the lone medicine ball to David.

"Why is that one mine?" David asked, not lifting a hand to reach for it.

"Because you're different," Mike said, and extended the plate further until David took it.

Mike set the other plate on the floor between Raph and Leo. "You're gonna put it under your tongue and then meditate like you always do," he said. "Remember, when you embody on the astral plane, it's gonna be in your spirit guise - the way you see yourself. Don't be scared."

David was raising the hand that wasn't holding the plate. "I don't know how to meditate," he said.

"Close your eyes and breathe," Mike said. "The medicine is gonna make it real easy." He settled back. "Whenever you guys are ready."

David lifted the plate a little and eyed the medicine ball as though _it_ might try to eat _him_. "I'm not ready."

"Bro." Mike smiled encouragingly. "Trust me. That's been going pretty good for you so far, right?"

Raph thought David was going to argue about whether or not Mike's point was true, but instead the kid took a deep breath, scooped the medicine ball off the plate, and stuck the glob of herbs in his mouth with one hand while putting the plate down with the other. Then, very determinedly, he straightened his posture and closed his eyes.

Leo gestured to the other plate. Raph took one ball, and then Leo curled the other into his palm.

"_Keep each other safe_," Mike murmured in Japanese, as they put the bitter medicine under their tongues. "_Good luck_."

* * *

Raphael awoke to himself in a white room - or, rather, a white _something_. It didn't exactly have walls, but merely a softly-defined glow that faded away to nothing at some indeterminate distance.

He blinked twice, and looked down at himself. Immediately, a grin spread across his face. "Aw, yeah!" he crowed. "Now we're talkin'!"

His body looked much as it did on the earthly plane, except he was about three times as muscular as he had ever been in real life. He flexed hugely as he turned, intent on showing off his build to anyone who might be there to see it.

The first person he laid eyes on was Leo, who looked exactly the same as he did in reality. "Typical," Raph muttered, watching Leo examine his spirit body.

"I don't have any scars," Leo said, studying the inside of his forearm. "My spirit guise has never been marked by an enemy. Never accidentally wounded myself in practice. And you're -" He raised his eyes slowly from his own skin.

"One mega-ripped stud of a Turtle?" Raph suggested, striking a pose that highlighted his massive biceps.

"… Sure," Leo said. He looked around. "Where's David?"

"Aw, damn." Raph let his arms hang at his sides - though he couldn't quite lower them all the way, the muscles were so bulky - as he remembered what they were supposed to be doing here. "He's never done this before. You think he got lost?"

"Maybe the medicine didn't work for him," Leo said. He looked around the empty space. "David?" he called. "Are you here?"

Raph turned slowly, though in the featureless space it would have been immediately obvious if anybody else was in there with them. As he scanned his blank surroundings, though, another person popped into existence right before his eyes.

A _human_. Facing away from him, but white-skinned and on the small side, with brown hair falling just to the bottom of their shoulder blades.

"Who are you?" Raph barked. Instinctively, he drew the sai from his belt. He didn't know much about encountering spirits on the astral plane, and he wasn't about to take any chances.

The human didn't respond.

"Hey, lady!" Raph shouted. He could feel Leo moving up behind him, watchful but not yet drawing his own weapons. "I said, who are you?"

The human turned slowly, hands raised, palms turned in. Not any kind of fighting stance. She looked up, her eyes bright.

"Raph," she said. "It's me." Her face shone with joy. "I - This is how I see myself. This is who I am."

Raph pulled his sai back into a defensive position. "David? You're… you're human?"

A fierce nod. "I told you. I'm human on the inside."

Raph squinted at the spirit form before him, with its human shape, its human clothes. The shirt was not exactly form-fitting, but it showed distinctly human curves. "You're a girl?"

"No, I'm not a girl," David replied, but he was so happy the retort had none of its usual heat. He looked Raph up and down, and his human face pinched strangely. "That can't be healthy."

"What are you talkin' about?" Raph demanded. He flexed again, making sure David got a good look. "This is what healthy looks like."

David shook his head. "No, I'm pretty sure that's what steroid abuse looks like."

Raph jammed his sai back into his belt and flicked a finger in David's direction. "And _I'm_ pretty sure that's what _starvation_ looks like."

David's spirit form was skinny, though not quite as sickly looking as his real body. Without a word, he pulled up his shirt and poked at his stomach. "Oh," he said, tugging the shirt back down in a hurry. "_That_ doesn't feel like I expected."

"Can we focus?" Leo said.

"Focus?" Raph repeated. He pointed at David again. "Aren't you gonna say anything about this?"

"Say anything about what?" Leo replied. He cast a perfunctory look at their brother. "It's how he sees himself."

Raph threw up his arms, almost overbalancing himself with the unexpected weight of the muscle mass. "Then what're we doing here?"

"The spirit guise isn't static, Raph," Leo said. "It changes as your concept of yourself does." He gestured towards David. "Right now, David is suffering because his concept of himself is so different from his physical body. It's unhealthy. It's why he's contemplating extreme, life-threatening surgery to 'fix' his physical body. Our goal here is to change his image of himself, so he can accept who he really is."

Out of the corner of his eye, Raph had noticed David getting angrier and angrier during Leo's little speech. "_That's_ what this is about?" David said, when Leo was done. "Some kind of hallucinogenic therapy to get me to think it's _okay_ to be green and missing fingers and unable to thermoregulate? Some feel-good journey of self-discovery to show me I'm _supposed_ to be like this?"

Leo turned to him, and spoke calmly in response to the outburst. "David, nothing can change your spirit guise except you. If your astral form changes, it's because _you_ really believe that that's who you are. If you still look like this at the end of your journey -" He raised a hand to encompass everything about David's spirit body. "- then you'll know that you're making the right choice by going forward with this surgery. But if not…" He lowered his hand. "Then, like I said, we may have saved your life."

David crossed his arms. "You think I only see myself as a human because I've lost the part of my spirit that thinks it's a turtle."

Leo nodded. "Right." Then his expression softened. "We're human _and_ turtle, David. Raph and I didn't embody as normal turtles; we embodied as mutants - both one thing and the other. We have dual spirits, and we've spent our lives learning to accept them. You haven't. We think you didn't _lose_ your turtle soul, you disowned it. And we just want you to make sure - _really_ sure - that you don't want it back, before you give it up forever."

David looked down at the toes of his sneakers. "Okay," he said. "Fine. Where do we start?"


	17. Chapter 17

"If we're right," Leonardo said, "you're embodied here twice. Once in this form, and once in a turtle form, which is trapped here because it doesn't have a physical body to return to. That's Donatello. We need to find him."

"How do we do that?" David asked.

Leo shifted. Splinter had drilled into him that plans never survived first contact with reality, and apparently they didn't survive first contact with the mystical either. "I was hoping you would know," he said awkwardly.

David gave him a scathing look.

Leo rubbed his eyes with two fingers. "Okay. You can't find him because you don't have a connection to him. That's why we're here." He looked up. "Raph, can _you_ find him?"

"I dunno," Raph said. "Can we meditate here?"

"Not really," Leo said.

David rolled his eyes and walked away.

"Let's think about this," Leo said, raising his voice. David was going to stay in the loop on this whether he liked it or not. "Raph, you know Donatello. Where would he be?"

Raph moved his mouth silently as he thought. "Well, he's a turtle, right? He'd be in the ocean."

"He would not," David said loudly. He was faced away from them, poking at his spirit body again, and Leo didn't want to know exactly what he was up to. "If Donatello is my turtle soul, he would be a red-eared slider. They're pond turtles, not sea turtles. They don't live in the ocean."

"No, I think Raph is onto something," Leo said. "The spirit plane isn't that literal, David. In the real world some turtles might be found in ponds, but astrally, all turtles are connected to the sea. It's where their spirits come from."

"You get more ridiculous every time you open your mouth," David said.

"Anyway," Raph said, "how do we get to the ocean?" He glanced around. "I don't see no beach here."

"Astral travel," Leo said. He looked at his other brother. "David."

David groaned, but Leonardo's commanding tone proved to work even on those who had not been trained to respond to it. He came back and stood at Leo's side.

Leo gestured for Raph to come to his opposite side. One and then the other, he took their hands.

"See the ocean before you," he said, squaring his shoulders and staring straight ahead. "You can sense the humidity, the cooler temperature coming off the water. Feel the sand under your feet. Follow the rhythm of the waves. You are home. You are home. You are home.

"Now," he said, "yearn for the sea."

* * *

He couldn't believe it worked. He had always considered memorizing the sayings of the old masters to be a less valuable aspect of his training, but maybe Master Splinter was onto something after all.

He had his doubts about the true provenance of some of the quotes he had learned, including the one he had just called upon. But if they worked, maybe it didn't matter who first said them.

And this one, it was clear, had _worked_. There was the ocean, just as he had imagined it, and there were his brothers, staring in wonder.

Slowly, gently, he let go of their hands.

"I can't believe that worked," David said.

"You just have to know what you're doing," Leo said. He turned down the beach. "Let's go."

* * *

Leo reveled in movement as they walked. His body felt perfect, and he wondered whether his brothers were having the same experience of their spirit forms. Before he could ask, Raph brought up the question from his own unique angle.

"So why do you look exactly the same as in real life?" Raph asked him. David had gone ahead a little, fascinated by everything he saw and seemingly much less intimidated by nature when it was only the embodiment of spiritual resonances.

"Because that's what having a good mind-body connection means," Leo said, keeping his eyes trained ahead. "Seeing yourself as you really are."

"I thought having a good mind-body connection meant you didn't trip over your own feet," Raph said, his huge arms swinging at his sides as he leaned over to carry on the half-whispered conversation.

"No, that's spatial awareness," Leo said.

"I thought spatial awareness was when you didn't get lost," Raph said.

"No, that's spatial reasoning."

Raph snorted. "You got an answer for everything, don'tcha?"

"Yes."

Raph jogged ahead and poked David in the back, causing him to jump and squirm. "Got a question for _you_," he said.

"What?" David's voice carried on the metaphysical breeze, and he didn't sound like he was interested in whatever Raph wanted to ask him.

"Why do you look like a girl?" Raph asked, undeterred.

"I don't look like a girl."

"No?" Raph reached out and tugged on a hank of David's hair. "What's this?"

David whirled and slapped Raph's hand, a move that turned out to be much more effective on the astral plane than it would have been in real life. Raph drew back, stung. "Knock it off," David snapped, and he stormed towards the distant rock outcropping that had been looming in front of them as they walked.

"What's his problem?" Raph asked, as Leo moved past him, pushing through the soft sand.

Leo ignored the question, quickly catching up to his other brother. "David."

"Leave me alone," David said. "My human body sucks too, okay? I get it."

Leo caught David's arm, turned him around, and looked him in the face.

"You look like your mom," he said quietly, after a long minute.

David looked at the ground. "They could make me look like anything," he said, so softly Leo could barely hear him. "With the gene therapy, I mean. Why wouldn't I ask to look like a leading man? But… it's not me."

Leo didn't say anything.

"I - I need some time," David said. "Like you said, if I still look like this when we're done here, then I should get the surgery. I don't want to look for Donatello right now. I just want to sit with this body."

Leo let David go, and sat. In a minute, his brother sat too, and then Raph came and loomed over them.

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting," Leo replied.

"That gonna help?" Raph asked.

"This is David's journey," Leo said, straightening his pose and looking out over the water. "If he wants to sit, then that's exactly what we should be doing."

Raph grunted, but sat down, settling his bulk in the sand.

David half-turned away from them, and as Leo watched from the corner of his eye, he examined his hands. Then he felt his face, mostly around the nose and ears. Then he played with his hair. Then he took his shoes off and looked at his toes. And then, very gingerly, he reached under his shirt and ran a thumb up his spine.

"What do you think?" Leo asked, when David seemed to be done.

"It's… not what I imagined," David said, and Leo thought that something changed about his spirit guise, though he couldn't say what it was.

They sat.

"I don't think he's waiting for us," David said.

Leo glanced at him. "Hm?"

"Donatello. I don't think he's lying on the beach somewhere waiting for us." David straightened his shoes and put them at his side. "If I've disowned him, if he has nothing to do with me anymore…" He gestured to the ocean. "I think he's out _there_ somewhere, just being a turtle."

"Makes sense to me," Raph said.

Leo nodded. "Then let's go swimming."

* * *

They waded into the warm water. David had taken off his shirt, but had refused to remove his pants, a point on which Leo was all too glad not to argue with him. Willingly, he followed them into the water, and they dove.

Within seconds, Leo felt a pull on his hand. He glanced back, puzzled. David was struggling in his grip, thrashing his legs and jerking his head.

Raph was looking too, and in a smooth motion they kicked upward and pulled their brother to the surface.

David gasped for air and threw himself at Leo, hanging from his shoulder and panting. "I - I can't swim," he managed, confirming Leo's fears. "I can't hold my breath."

"Are you sure?" Leo asked. He held his brother's narrow waist securely, and treaded water for both of them. "You're not just panicking?"

David shook his head vehemently, his wet hair hitting Leo in the face with surprising force. "I'm human. I can't."

"Okay." Leo's instinct was to rub David's back, but he sensed how intensely uncomfortable that would be for his brother right now. "Okay. Breathe, David."

David gagged on air as Leo rolled onto his back and swam towards the shore.

"You'll be okay here?" he asked, as David collapsed into the sand next to his shoes.

"Y-yeah," David said, but Leo still took a good look around for any malevolent spirits that might be trying to move in. David was distressed and vulnerable, easy prey for a lost soul.

Easy, he hoped, for Donatello to reunite with.

"Let's go," he said to Raph, and then they were in the water again, gliding into the depths.

* * *

The water was so clear as to be disorienting - Leo reached out to touch a guiding hand to the bottom, only to realize it was many feet below him. If there was any other big turtle out here, he wouldn't be hard to see.

Their dive-sign, the way they communicated with each other while swimming, didn't include a word for _call him_ \- such a concept would normally have been nonsensical underwater - but Leo tried to convey as much to Raph, and Raph seemed to understand.

It was a shadow first, a blurry darkening of the crystal blue. But as it came closer, Leo could make out the flippers and the broad shell, and then the sharp beak and the mottled green pattern: a quintessential sea turtle.

Not for the first or even second time that day, he thought to himself: _I can't believe that worked._

Or worked partially, at least. Leo was still figuring out how to convey to the turtle spirit that they would be honored if it would follow them, when Raph simply put out a hand, laid his palm on the turtle's beak, and then turned and swam away with the spirit following sedately behind.

Leo had seen a lot of things in his life, but this was possibly the most incredible: Raphael, the recalcitrant meditator, leading their brother's spirit home.

As they neared the shore, the bottom rose up to meet them. Raph swung his feet down and walked out of the surf, encouraging Donatello to drag his massive body up the beach. As Leo rose from the water, he saw David watching anxiously.

"Is that him?" Without waiting for an answer, David climbed to his feet and stumbled towards them through the loose sand. He sank to his knees again below the surf line, not caring that the waves splashed up around him.

Donatello stopped, looking up at David, not seeming inclined to move any further.

Leo knelt beside them. "Is this what you want?" he asked.

David reached out a hand, then pulled it back. "I - I don't know." He closed his eyes. "Going swimming with you guys was amazing, but… being able to do that means giving up going to college, having a job, having a _life_…" He rubbed his forearm across his eyes. "I don't know what to do."

Donatello blinked his huge eyes slowly, then stretched his neck to the side, dug his flippers into the sand, and began to turn around.

"Wait -" David held out his hand again, though he still didn't touch the turtle. "Leo, what do I do? If I don't want to let him go, that means I want him back, right?" His voice was rising in anguish. "It makes no rational sense to want to be a mutant turtle. What's wrong with me?" His skin rippled, the edges of his body flickering.

"What's happening?" Raph, who had been standing back, dropped to David's side. "Leo, what is this?"

"He's losing coherence," Leo said. "His self-image isn't strong enough to hold a spirit guise together." He leaned forward to put a hand on David's arm, but the limb seemed to dissolve under his touch. "David, listen to me. You are whoever you think you are. What do you want to be?"

With a cry, David disintegrated into water.

Donatello lowered his head towards the little stream that ran towards him, and melted. The twin puddles sank into the sand and vanished.

"Oh crap," Raph said, in a voice that was barely a voice. "_Crap._ Leo, we're in deep shit."

"Wait." Leo stared intently at the sand, listening to the faint crackle of water moving through the grains. "Raph, get out of the way."

"What -"

"_Get out of the way!_"

Leo dove to the side, and hoped Raph was doing likewise, as a pillar of light erupted from the sand. A huge wave crashed over him, almost dragging him out to sea, and when he was able to look up, a single bright figure was standing where David and Donatello had been.

The glow faded, and Leonardo's heart sank as he saw David as he had been before, only with his nose maybe a little flatter and his T-shirt maybe a little more filled out.

"That's it?" Raph said, expressing the disappointment Leo was trying to hide.

"No." David was looking at his hands. "That's not it." He looked up. "Guys, Donatello is still out there. We need to find him again."


	18. Chapter 18

"What the hell just happened?" Raph demanded. He was following David, who was storming up the beach - not angry as he had been before, but with a sense of urgency.

"Donatello is still out there," David repeated. "I absorbed him, but only partially. All the parts of my turtle soul that I didn't accept re-embodied somewhere else."

"So…?" Raph said slowly. "If you didn't accept 'em, that means you don't want 'em, right?"

"Maybe," David said, without slowing his pace. "But I need to find out."

"And we're goin' where in such a hurry?" Raph asked.

"Just for a second, I think Donatello and I merged completely," David said. "And then, as I rejected all the parts I couldn't handle and threw them back out, I saw a…" He trailed off, seeming unsure how to continue.

"You had a vision?" Leo suggested.

"Something like that," David said. "Anyway, I think I know where he went."

"Mind fillin' us in?" Raph asked. He was beginning to struggle to keep up. His extra muscle mass bogged him down in the sand, without seeming to make it much easier to push off. His still-mostly-human pipsqueak brother was outdistancing him.

"It was dark," David said. "Enclosed. Maybe a cave." He pointed towards the rock outcropping that jutted into the sea ahead of them. "I have a feeling it's over there."

Raph let him go on ahead, and dropped back to talk to Leo. "Seems way more okay with all this spirit stuff all of a sudden," he said.

"I'd say that's a good thing," Leo replied.

Raph shook his head. "What'd we bring him here for? A crash course in meditation, or getting it through his skull that he's a Turtle?"

"Is there a difference?" Leo asked philosophically, and Raph considered throttling him. "This is his journey. How was he going to accept the missing piece of his spirit, if he didn't first accept that spirits exist?"

Well, that kind of made sense. These stepwise approaches always did, when Leo explained them, but they just never came naturally to Raph. He believed in doing things all at once.

The sand underfoot was turning rocky, and then it was just rock, as they came up the smooth lower slope of the cliff. David was standing at the peak of the gentle rise, his hands on his hips, glaring at the nearly-vertical upper part of the monolith.

"Well, crap," he said, as his brothers caught up to him.

Raph followed his gaze, and saw an opening some fifty feet up the side of the cliff. Automatically, his eyes trailed back down towards the ground, picking out handholds and treacherous spots as he scanned the rock wall.

"We can climb it," he said.

David looked at him sharply. "Are you crazy?" He pointed to a stretch where the cliff leaned outwards over the water. "We cannot climb that. We will fall and kill ourselves."

Raph mirrored David's gesture, but looked at Leo. "Leo, climb it."

Leo didn't move. "You don't give the orders here."

David looked back at Raph, waiting for his reaction to that, but Raph said nothing, and in a moment Leo smiled and began scaling the cliff with practiced ease.

"Okay," David said, when Leo had gotten about halfway up the wall, moving at a steady pace. "But _I_ can't climb it."

Raph moved to the foot of the cliff, getting a good grip on the first handholds. "Get on."

"What?"

Raph jerked his head towards his shoulder. "Get on. I can carry you."

"You -"

"Dave, are we doin' this or not?" Raph snapped. "Just get on already."

"Don't call me Dave," Dave grumbled, as he wrapped himself around Raph's shell.

"Just don't fucking lean back," Raph said, and then he was lifting both of them up the wall and it felt amazing.

"I'm going to die I'm going to die I'm going to die," David kept repeating in his ear.

"Y'ain't gonna die," Raph said, reaching for the next handhold. "We're not high enough."

"I don't think you understand how gravity works."

"I will throw you off this cliff," Raph said, and David actually shut up for a minute while he navigated a difficult area of the rock face.

"Does that mean you love me?" David asked, as Raph pulled them over the edge of the cave entrance.

Raph pushed him into a wall, in the most affectionate way.

* * *

"How are you with darkness?" Leo asked, when Raph and David found him in the deep gloom just a few yards into the cave.

"Never tried it," David replied. He glanced into the pitch blackness that lay ahead of them. "Why is the astral plane so awful? Isn't it supposed to be all my favorite places? Or, you know, soft couches with angels feeding me grapes?"

"The astral plane is a place of intense struggle for all but the most enlightened," Leo said. Raph wondered which old master had supposedly said _that._

"Great," David said. "Let's go, I guess."

They moved into the cave, Leo leading and Raph behind. David inched along between them, his sneakers scuffing against the smooth rock with every step.

"Can I just carry him again?" Raph asked. "We're never gonna get anywhere like this."

"Shut up, Raph," came David's voice from the blackness. "You think you can push people around just because you're stronger than them? Get over yourself."

"When have I ever pushed you around?" Raph demanded, deliberately ignoring the body slam of just moments ago. "I carried you up a cliff because _you_ wanted to go. Sorry for trying to help."

"I didn't ask for your help," David snapped.

"Yeah, well maybe you should," Raph said, and was glad no one could see him sulking. Being strong was what he _did._ It wasn't about having power over his family. It was about being able to flatten anyone who so much as laid a finger on the people he loved. He wasn't good enough, wasn't _himself_ enough, until he had the physical strength to stop anyone who might try to do his family harm.

"Knock it off, you two," Leo said. "David, are we going the right way? Do you sense him?"

"I think it's this way," David said, and Raph followed the sound of his shoes to the left.

The rough walls scraped his massive shoulders, and then they came out into a domed chamber, starkly lit by the sun streaming in through a crack in the ceiling.

Raph's hands went to his sai. He didn't know what to expect. The Donatello they had just encountered had been slow and gentle; the one he knew most recently from home was angry and violent. What had David absorbed? What was left?

He followed David closely, guarding him despite the fresh sting of his words. As they moved towards the center of the chamber, all seemed quiet.

"Donatello?" David called out. "Are you here?"

Silence. Dust motes floating in the air. And then, the bright sound of a rock falling over other rocks.

Raph turned instantly towards the sound, and Leo did likewise. David followed a moment later, his reflexes not honed through years of training.

"It's him," David said quietly. "He's afraid of us."

"How do you know?" Leo whispered back.

"I just know."

Another scrape of rock, and Raph picked him out: a figure in the dark, humanoid, but clearly Turtle. He was perched on a slope of loose stone - maybe the pulverized remains of what had fallen out of the ceiling - trying not to move and give away his position.

"I see 'im," he murmured. "What do you wanna do, Leo?"

"Call him," Leo said. "See if he'll come to you again."

Leaving his sai in his belt, Raph slowly raised his empty hands towards Donatello. He focused his thoughts, willing the lost spirit to come.

The shadowy figure shrank back.

Raph moved forward, edging sideways, trying not to look threatening.

"Raph -"

"Let me do this, Leo," he said through gritted teeth. Half hunched over, making himself look as small as possible, he moved one step at a time towards the cowering spirit.

It wasn't until he got close that he could see what Donatello was. He was barely mutant, with the flattened head and pronounced beak of a normal turtle. His hands and feet were well-formed, but he used them like an animal, shifting toward the wall on all fours and then pulling his limbs close to himself in an instinctively defensive gesture.

"Hey," Raph said softly. He leaned slowly into a seated position, the gravel crunching under his weight. "Is that you, Donnie? Do you know me?"

The spirit watched him, wide-eyed and uncomprehending.

"It's okay," Raph said. "We ain't gonna hurtcha."

He reached out a hand, and Donatello let him touch his beak, as he had in the warm sea.

"I miss you, buddy," Raph said. "You're hurting too, right? You and David gotta work this thing out." He stroked Donatello's cool, scaly skin with his calloused fingers. "Did you get a little bit of your connection back? Can you call him now?" His hand stilled on Donatello's beak. "Tell him to come."

They held each other's gaze. Then Donatello's beak slid across his palm as he turned to look towards the other half of his soul, and then David was coming towards them as if drawn by an invisible cord.

"He's okay," Raphael said, barely above a whisper, to both of them. "You're safe."

"How can this be any part of me?" David asked, as Donatello raised himself up on his forelimbs to look his human self in the eye. "I - I don't recognize this." He blinked at the reptilian face before him. "Who are you?"

"I don't think he can talk," Raph said.

"This isn't what I saw," David said. "This isn't what I was looking for." He took a step back. "I don't want this."

"He's not what he looks like," Raph said. "Let him show you."

David shook his head. "I don't know how."

"Hold out your hand."

Slowly, David lifted his hand, pale in the dim light, and let it hang there between them.

Donatello squinted at it with his wide-set eyes, and then pressed his beak into the soft palm.

David's head tilted back as something passed between them. "Where…? Oh. _Oh._ I understand. Yes." He stared, empty-gazed, at the ceiling. "No. I don't. I - I'm sorry."

Leo approached on silent feet, and stood at Raph's side as David and Donatello exchanged pieces of their soul.

"I will," David said. "And thank you."

Donatello slowly withdrew, while David remained motionless. With the angle his head was at, his hair fell nearly to his rear - and then it slid downwards, falling softly into the dust.

As Donatello pulled back, the shadows seemed to reach forward to envelop him. In a blink, he was gone.

And when David lowered his head, he was bald. It took Raph a minute longer to realize he had no eyebrows, and his ears and nose had been reduced to slits.

When David saw his brothers staring at him, his hand went to his scalp, and then he turned slowly to look at the shorn pile of hair. "The astral plane has weird metaphors," he said, and then added to the weirdness factor by twisting the hair into a bundle and putting it in his pocket.

"I'm beginning to understand," David said, and Raph sure hoped he was about to provide some exposition.


	19. Chapter 19

"I am everything that I am," David said, as they stood in the shaft of sunlight. "Donatello is everything that I am not. But also some things that I am."

"Say what?" said Raph, even though Leo thought he understood.

"Donatello has all the traits of myself that I've rejected," David explained again. "But now that we have a little bit of a connection, he also has access to some of the traits I've kept. I think we're going to see more of that as we keep travelling."

Raph frowned, trying to piece the logic together. "But he used to be able to talk. I'm betting you never rejected _that._"

"No," David said. "But we _used_ to have a connection, and that was one of the traits he had access to. Then when the connection got broken, he lost it."

"So Donnie used to be mostly you," Raph said, "and then he became more and more the things you hate about yourself, and then he became less and less the things you like about yourself, until he was just a big dumb jerk."

"Sounds about right," David agreed.

"But Donnie used to be a real nice guy," Raph said, "and it doesn't seem like _that's_ something you decided to keep. So where'd that go?"

David looked thoughtfully at the floor.

"It's repressed," Leo said. "Donatello isn't able to embody all the things David has rejected about himself at the same time."

"Then he can't reabsorb it all?" Raph said.

"I think he can," Leo said. "_We_ don't express all the aspects of our personality at the same time. We shift between them. Donatello is doing that too, but in a different way. As David reabsorbs pieces of him, he'll be able to use those aspects when he wants to."

"So what pieces did you reabsorb?" Raph asked David. "What was that just now?"

"I reabsorbed being able to swim," David said, and at Leo's questioning look he pressed a hand to his chest. "I can feel it when I breathe. And then from the second Donatello, I absorbed…" He hesitated. "I'm not sure what to call it. Intuition, maybe."

Leo made a subtle sign to stop Raph from asking another question, and waited for David to go on.

"I value logic," David said. "I always want to make rational decisions. I don't believe any of this stuff about meditation and souls and herbal medicine. But this aspect of Donatello… all he had was feelings. He trusted his sense of what was safe or dangerous, real or unreal. That's… something I want to be more open to."

"And that made your hair fall out?" Raph said.

David leaned away before Raph could poke at his scalp. "Like I said, a weird metaphor. I've always wanted hair. My mom doesn't let me play with hers. But I guess my spirit guise is telling me I think _this_ is more important."

"It, uh… it looks good," Raph said.

David was obviously bummed about it, though, so Leo changed the subject. "How is your connection with Donatello now?" he asked. "Do you know where he went?"

David shook his head. "I understood a lot, and then it was like he blocked me out. He didn't tell me where he was going."

"Do you think you could use your intuition to figure it out?" Leo asked gently.

David rubbed at his arm. "Maybe. I'm going to look around."

"How are you doing?" Leo asked Raph, as David walked away to explore the cavern.

"Eh." Raph kicked at the ground. "It's a lot to get your head around, y'know?"

Leo waited.

"I dunno if I'm losin' Donnie, or gettin' him back," Raph blurted. He looked at Leo with a kind of desperation that was rare in him. "You don't know, Leo. He was my best friend. Am I finally getting the brother I was always supposed to have?" His eyes ticked back and forth across Leo's face, reading the hurt Leo couldn't disguise. "Sorry," he said quietly. "It's - I was saying how I was glad we didn't grow up with David. But if he was supposed to be like Donnie… I think we all missed out on something."

"It's all right." Leo was silent a moment before saying, "I keep feeling like I should have known. That I should have picked up on some clue from Master Splinter, or just _sensed_ there were supposed to be four of us." He looked at Raph, watching for his trust. "I keep feeling like I let him down."

"Leo," Raph said, "we don't leave nobody behind. When the Dragons were arguing about who they should sell me to, I didn't doubt for a second you were gonna come. We -"

"Wait, what?" Leo said.

Raph blinked at him, thrown off by the interruption. "What what?"

"The Dragons were going to sell you?"

"Uh, yeah," said Raph, who obviously had wanted to talk about something else. "Just - I dunno. Nobody was talking about dissecting."

Leo rubbed the ridge between his eyes. "Raph," he said, "I don't know if we should go home."

This time, Raph was too stunned to say anything.

"Am I losing my mind?" Leo asked. "How many things has Master Splinter lied to us about?"

"Don't blame this one on him," Raph said. "Who _wouldn't_ expect people to want to dissect us?"

"But he _did_ know about David," Leo said. "Why didn't he tell us? I asked him, and he said because it wouldn't have helped us to know. But what would it have hurt?"

"Uh, because we woulda gone out looking for him," Raph said. "And who knows how _that_ would've ended." At Leo's despondent look, he said, "Leo, y'ain't wrong. We all got a lot to think about. If you want to stay at the farm for a while, I'm actually not gonna argue with you for once."

Leo nodded, and said nothing further as David rejoined them.

"I found something," he said.

* * *

It was a hatch in the floor, and Leo was certain it had not been there when they had come in.

"I think we should go this way," David said.

Leo lifted the hatch, and they looked down into the hole.

"What is that?" David asked.

"Looks like a sewer," Raph said.

"That's what a sewer looks like?" David stared down the ladder in fascination, then looked at Raph. "How do you know what a sewer looks like?"

"We live in one," Leo said.

"Oh my god," David said. "Please tell me you're joking." He held up a hand. "I mean, I know you mutated in a sewer, and I know that for some reason, hanging a Batman symbol down a storm drain gets your attention, but please tell me you do not actually live in a sewer."

"We actually live in a sewer," Leonardo repeated. "We told you. We used to live in an abandoned subway station, and now we live in a… well, we don't know what it is, exactly. But basically, we live in a sewer." He pointed down the shaft. "This is how we get around the city without people screaming and printing stories about lizard men in the newspaper."

David's face fell. "I - I'm really sorry," he said. He looked at his brothers, almost as if seeing them for the first time. "In some ways, I've been really lucky, haven't I?"

"In some ways, yes. But -" Leo smiled reassuringly. "Don't feel bad for us, David. Believe it or not, there are things about living in a sewer I would never give up." He gestured to the metal rungs set into the concrete wall. "After you."

* * *

David managed the ladder on his own, and then Leo and Raph jumped down behind him, letting the hatch swing shut. The tunnel was lit by fluorescent tubes, and both directions looked equally good.

"Which way?" Leo asked.

"I don't know," David said.

Raph was looking at the pipes overhead. "I know where this is," he said.

"What?" Leo looked up, but all he saw was a jumble of water mains and electrical conduits. "How can you know where this is?"

"Where do you think I go all the time?" Raph said. "I follow the pipes. I know the street grid, I know the subway map, and I know the utility lines. New York is my city. Give me a point A and a point B, and I'll tell you how the sewage gets there."

"Okay," said Leo, who didn't want to think about that proposal too carefully, "but where are we?"

"Not far from a place I used to hang out," Raph said. "It was like my own private Lair. Maybe Donnie's using it now."

Leo gestured down the tunnel. Raph had succeeded with Donatello twice now; maybe he could do it a third time. "Lead the way."

"I'm a little worried," David said as they walked, and knowing his brother was keyed into his intuition right now, Leonardo paid close attention. "Why did he shut me out? I have a feeling we're going to encounter one of Donatello's less friendly aspects."

"You think it's the one I know?" Raph asked. "I told you guys, he has a masakari and he knows how to use it. I don't want to mess with that guy."

"We won't fight him if we don't have to," Leo said. "We just want David to have a chance to meet him."

"Do we?" David asked. "I don't know why my soul has an ax-murdering aspect, but I don't want it."

"This is your journey," Leonardo said again. "Anything you encounter here is for a reason. There must be something you need to learn from this embodiment of Donatello."

"Well, we're here," Raph said, gesturing to an archway covered with a makeshift curtain of black plastic bags. "Are we going in?"

David took a deep breath. "We're going in."

"Be on your guard," Leo said, and after waiting for the answering signal from Raph, he pushed into the chamber beyond.

This Donatello, at least, was easy to find. He was sitting on an old packing crate, next to a fire pit, and the light was flickering off a wickedly sharp ax that rested between his knees. He watched them with fierce red eyes as they entered.

David moved along the wall a little distance, following his brothers, picking his way over the garbage strewn across the room. When he had gotten clear of the door, he turned towards Donatello. "Hi," he said, and held up his hand, palm out.

Donatello smiled, a deadly curve that mirrored his ax. "Should not have come," he rasped, in a voice as rusty from disuse as the battered hot water heater in the corner.

"That isn't what you told me before," David replied. "You said you had more to show me."

"He said." Donatello cast his gaze at something Leonardo could not see, a move that set him immediately on edge. "Not me anymore."

"No," David said. "Me, now. Maybe soon, us. But now -"

Faster than sight, Donatello scooped up something from the floor and flung it at David.

"Get down!" Leo spun David against the wall, covering him with his shell, as the kunai buried its tip in the brickwork next to his head. Leo continued his pivot, letting go of David's shoulders and drawing his swords as he came back around to face Donatello. Raph had already moved to guard them both, bringing his sai up to catch the swing of Donatello's ax.

"Don't hurt him!" Leo shouted, even though that seemed like it might be the least of their worries. "Subdue only!"

Leo hadn't realized until Donatello stood up how _big_ he was. He wasn't muscular like Raph's spirit guise, but he was tall, with strength to match. He was bringing his masakari down through Raph's block with inexorable force.

Leo attacked low, sweeping Donatello's legs from under him. What Donatello had in strength, he lacked in agility, and he went down hard. Raph was on him immediately, using grappling tactics to keep him on the ground.

But he was no match for Donatello's size. Even at a positioning disadvantage, Donatello was able to throw Raph to the floor, landing a hard stomp to his plastron as he got back to his feet.

Leo engaged again, aiming to disarm Donatello. A masakari could kill in one blow, especially when wielded by someone so powerful. But Donatello's grip was true, and Leonardo barely dodged his countering strike.

"Holy crap." Raph had recovered from the throw and was looking for an opening. "How do we put this guy down?"

"Leo -"

"David, stay back," Leo ordered. "Let us handle this." He launched himself at Donatello again, aiming to get him in a lock. Raph attacked on the other side, tying up Donatello's defenses and preventing him from countering. With a roar, Donatello grabbed Leo by the neck and flung him against a wall, at the same time knocking Raph into the other wall with a crushing backhand.

Leo rolled to his feet to see David wading through the piles of detritus, apparently intent on engaging his spirit double. "David, no!" He scrambled to reach his brother, but he wasn't going to get there in time.

"Guys, I've got this!" David shouted. "I understand!"

Donatello aimed to cleave his head right down the middle.

The ax stopped in midair, as a dome of shimmering light rose up around David.

"You are going to put that down," David said, and the masakari clattered to the floor.

The dome folded over itself, enveloping Donatello instead of David. It shrank, forcing Donatello to his knees, as David walked forward.

"Why?" Donatello rasped.

"Because that is mine," David said. "And you are going to give it to me."

Donatello bowed his head, and shrank away to nothing. The glowing dome that had covered him popped like a bubble, and the sparks faded, leaving only the fire.

When Leo's vision cleared, David was standing square, his arms smoothly muscled, almost like Leo's own.

"Are you coming?" David asked.

"Coming where?" Leo asked. He realized his swords were still in his hands, and sheathed them.

"It's a long trip," David said. "Let's do that astral travel thing again."


	20. Chapter 20

The clock ticked, and the three adults looked at one another.

"I'm not good at this," Dr. Lamb said, which was not news to April. "I hate waiting for other people to do things. It's why none of my techs stay around very long. I mean, that, and the fact that most of them take it as a temp job while they're studying to be fully-licensed vets."

"We should rest," Splinter said. "There is nothing for us to do until Miss O'Neil and her… acquaintance have learned some new information."

"My soccer captain," April explained.

Splinter considered this. "One who has spent many years mastering the art of soccer, and who trains others in the discipline?"

"Um." April thought about whether that was an accurate definition. "Amanda was only a year older than me, but she was talented and bossy."

"These are the traits of a good soccer captain?" Splinter asked.

April shrugged. "She taught _me_ a lot."

"Is there a reason we're discussing April's college-era extracurriculars?" Dr. Lamb broke in. "The question on the table was, what can we be doing _now_ to find my son before he goes into diabetic shock and suffers serious medical consequences?"

"We can rest," Splinter repeated, gently but emphatically. "We do not know what we may need to do tomorrow, but we may surmise we will be better able to do it if we have slept."

"Any ideas what we might do in order to be better able to sleep?" Dr. Lamb asked. She did not look the least bit tired.

"I'll get you a fluffy pillow," April said, leaving it deliberately ambiguous whether this was a generous offer or a subtle barb.

She headed to the linen closet, pulling down spare sheets and blankets. In a few minutes, she had the bedding spread out on the couch. That only made room for one, though.

"Sorry, Master Splinter," she said. "My apartment isn't really set up for guests."

"That is all right," he said. "I have slept in far worse places than your floor, Miss O'Neil."

He curled up, and almost instantly was asleep.

"Where did you meet this guy, again?" Dr. Lamb asked.

"I'm not telling you a bedtime story," April replied. "Go to sleep."

* * *

None of them slept well. Splinter and Emma got up somewhere around sunrise to resume studying the maps and bouncing around other ideas for how they might determine the whereabouts of their missing sons. Occasionally April joined that conversation, but mostly she dozed at her desk. Late in the morning, she was decisively woken by the phone ringing.

"Hello?" she said blearily, barely lifting her head as she pressed the receiver to her ear.

"April, it's Amanda. I couldn't get a definite hit, but I found some possibilities. Do you want to take a look?"

"Absolutely." April sat up and rubbed her face, trying to pull herself together. She desperately needed a cup of coffee and a change of clothes.

"Okay," Amanda said. "I have a zip of orthophotos and a readme with the addresses. Where can I email it?"

April gave her the new address she had created for the shop.

"Second time around?" Amanda asked. "April, is something wrong?"

April laughed. "No, it's the name of my antiques shop."

"Oh, a small business owner," Amanda said. "Congrats, April. And - good luck. With everything."

"Thanks, Amanda," April said. "I owe you."

She hung up, and a minute later Amanda's email pinged into her box. It was practically the first email the shop had received. April really needed to study up on outreach and marketing strategies.

Splinter and Dr. Lamb didn't come to look at the screen. They knew perfectly well they would have had no idea what they were seeing. They watched attentively from afar, though, as April unzipped the image files and began to flip through them. "What do you think?" she asked. For once, it seemed like it might actually be useful to have the technologically-inept parents hanging over her shoulder. "Do any of these look familiar? Any of them seem especially likely?"

Dr. Lamb and Splinter came to look, shaking their heads and murmuring "no" at each image that flashed onto the screen.

"David has never been out of midtown," Dr. Lamb said. "He certainly has no connection to any of these places."

"Any of them look like a place my sons might choose to hide," Splinter said.

"All right," April said. "I've got one more play. In the meantime, why don't you both go take a shower? You need it."

To her credit, Dr. Lamb could take brutal honesty as well as she could dish it out. With no apparent embarrassment, she lifted her arm, sniffed underneath, and said, "Yep, you're right."

"You may go first," Splinter said, in his gentlemanly manner. "My sons complain that I take a long time because I always must clean the drain after I finish."

"Oh, I know," Dr. Lamb said. "My groomers tell me horror stories." And leaving it there, she headed off towards the bathroom.

"Please tell me you know how to make coffee," April said.

"I am sorry," Splinter said. "I have never prepared this beverage. If you like, I can attempt to -"

"No," April said quickly. "Maybe it's better if we just -" She pointed to the screen. "I'm going to work on this, okay?"

Splinter did not seem to be offended, and quietly withdrew to await his turn in the shower.

The work was painstaking. Someday, April imagined, it would be possible to just enter a street address into a search engine and get all kinds of information about the property - maybe, even, the kind of aerial photos Amanda had been able to obtain through her specialized software.

For now, April was limited to scrolling through government databases, copying down phone numbers. As soon as she'd gotten through Amanda's files and pulled herself together a little, she picked up the phone and started dialing Register of Deeds offices in Northamptons across the Northeast.

"Hi," she said, to each one. "I'm calling about -" and then she listed each address that Amanda had given her, and waited while the bureaucrat on the other end of the line took their time flipping through a filing cabinet, and wrote down the name that they gave her.

She almost broke the pencil when a municipal employee told her, "That property is registered to a Mrs. Anita Jones."

"Excuse me?" April said. "Can you please repeat?"

"Anita Jones," the clerk said. "Alpha November India -"

"I got it," April interrupted. "Thank you."

Splinter was just coming out of the bathroom, looking oddly fluffy, as she hung up the phone. "I think we've got it," she said. Dr. Lamb leaned out of the kitchen - she had also professed ignorance of how to brew coffee, but had promised she could make a mean cup of tea. "This house belongs to a Jones," April said, pulling up a photo from Northampton, Massachusetts. "I'm going to finish calling down the list, just because it's such a common name. But I think this is our destination today."

"How are we going to get there?" Dr. Lamb asked.

"I can drive," April said.

"A New Yorker who can drive?" Dr. Lamb set a steaming mug of tea at April's elbow. "I didn't think they existed."

"I'm just unusual in all kinds of ways," April said, and picked up the phone once more.

* * *

None of the other properties belonged to a Jones. As she prepared to leave the apartment, April felt one moment like a brilliant detective, and the next moment like this was a hopeless long shot. What if they barged in on the wrong people?

"Anybody could be in that house," she said, as Dr. Lamb gathered up the maps and notes - just in case - and packed them into a bag April offered her. "What if -"

"Oh, crap," Dr. Lamb said, though it didn't quite seem to be in response to the risk April had just been trying to describe. "Terri is still at my apartment. By now she'll have baked a pie for every windowsill and gone back for round two."

"Who is Terri…?" April asked, but Dr. Lamb had already pulled the cell phone from her pocket and dialed it.

"Terri, we think we know where David is," Dr. Lamb was saying. "We're heading out now to look for him. Go home, and take all those cookies with you." She paused, listening. "Don't lie to me, Terri. I know there are cookies." Another pause. "Okay, _fine_. If anything comes up, call me. Okay. Bye."

"What happened to not involving other people?" April asked.

Dr. Lamb fixed her with a hard look. "Don't even go there," she said.

In a few minutes, they were in the van, and on their way to what they hoped was the right Northampton.


	21. Chapter 21

When Raphael opened his eyes, he was in David's room, and it was not the way he had expected it to look. Gone were the poles and wires and machines, the mysterious medical stuff Leo had ordered them to take _every piece of, who knows what he needs._ He didn't think astral travel was supposed to work that way, but he didn't get a chance to ask Leo about it.

"About time you got here."

David was lounging on the bed, watching them. No, not David - Donatello, looking almost exactly like David did in real life, while David was standing between Raph and Leo, still looking mostly like a human.

While the three astral travelers were still trying to orient themselves from their abrupt arrival, Donatello rolled off the bed to poke David in the chest. "That thing you just did to me?" he said. "Don't ever do it again."

"Don't make me," David replied, without the least bit of sympathy. Then his brow creased. "You remember?"

"Of course I remember," Donatello said. "You think I'm just some disjointed figment floating around the metaworld waiting for you to rescue me? I have a life too, David. You're kind of messing it up right now."

"Wow," David said. "I am really regretting letting you have access to my vocabulary. How do I turn this off?"

"Like I would tell you," Donatello said, and turned away to sit on the bed again.

"I'll make you tell me," David said, and he walked forward, a veil of power flickering around him.

"Oh, I'm so scared," Donatello said. "Sit down, you jerk."

"What the hell is going on?" Raph whispered to Leo. "Tell me this ain't happening."

"It's happening," Leo whispered back. "They're in balance. They're almost the same, right now. I think we're making progress."

"You call _this_ progress?" Raph flung an arm towards their twinned brother, forgetting to whisper.

"Would you two shut up?" Donatello said. "I'm about to give my other half some crucially important information that will greatly advance his spiritual development." He turned to the quasi-human sitting next to him. "David, you're an idiot. Truly a nitwit. I'd say you're dumb as a rock, but -" He pointed to David's head. "That's not gneiss."

"Did you seriously just resort to geology puns?" David asked. "That's so pathetic I can't even."

"Not my fault," Donatello said. "Your patheticness is infecting me. Like, literally."

"Gross," David said. "Tell me that's not the crucially important information."

"Ugh, no," said Donatello. "It's this: in addition to being a grade-A dumbass, you're also a turtle."

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," David said. "And by 'everyone', I mean some teenagers who live in a sewer, whereas a number of very-highly-educated people hold the opinion that I'm a human with an extremely bizarre syndrome."

"Your doctors are morons," Donatello said bluntly.

"They all have terminal degrees in their fields."

"They're highly-educated morons," Donatello acknowledged. "But morons nonetheless." He gestured around the room. "Notice anything missing?"

"I observe a distinct lack of assisted breathing machines and supportive care equipment," David said. "I do note a UV lamp and a diabetes kit."

"You might have a high enough IQ to sustain life after all," Donatello said. "Now, what do you notice about me?"

David looked him up and down. "You have many fewer needle scars than I do," he said, "which is consistent with the presence of many fewer needles."

"And?" Donatello prompted.

"You… look okay," David said. "You don't look like what my team said would happen if I went off my meds." He frowned. "You look _better_ than I do."

Raph had to agree with that, at least to a limited extent. Donatello was no trained athlete, that was plain to see, but he at least had some healthy weight on him. He didn't look exhausted, the way David always did. And, while he apparently still felt the need to wear clothes, he seemed far more at ease in his body than the brother Raph had barely been allowed to touch since meeting him weeks ago.

"Truly a master of observation," Donatello said, and he leaned forward to fix David with an intense gaze. "Now, listen: you're a turtle. You're poikilothermic. You need external heat to maintain safe core temperature.

"You're a herptile. You don't digest lactose efficiently.

"You never go outside. Window glass blocks UV radiation and disrupts vitamin D synthesis. Like, duh.

"That?" He pointed to Raphael. "Plastron. On the dorsal surface, carapace. Commonly known as a turtle shell. Not a rare disorder of excessive ossification. If you amputate it you will seriously die."

He held up a hand. "Tridactyly. Makes no sense. Kind of sucks. Grow up and deal."

Raph had no idea what had just been said, but David didn't miss a beat. "Nocturnal shortness of breath?" he asked.

"Psychosomatic."

"Pseudotail?"

"Actual tail."

"Weak immune system?"

"You eat processed crap and you don't get any exercise."

"Glucose numbers?"

"Diabetes _does_ occur in reptiles."

David took a moment to absorb all of this. "So what Ron said to me a few days ago…"

"Was correct," Donatello said. "He finally figured it out."

David blinked at him. "Then you are saying that I am in fact a mutated _Trachemys scripta elegans_ with severe congenital diabetes, and my team has been misdiagnosing and mistreating me for fifteen years."

"Oh my god, it can learn," Donatello said.

"You know what?" Raph broke in. "I liked the last Donatello better. I understood him."

"Was anyone talking to you?" Donatello said. He turned back to David, and his expression softened a little. "D, Ron and the others mean well. They care about you. They just don't get it. They couldn't accept what you are, and it really screwed up _your_ ability to accept what you are. Don't let them do that to you anymore."

David thought about this for a long minute, looking at his hand where it lay next to Donatello's on the blanket. "I'm… I'm really not sick? I've spent my whole life going through medical procedures I don't need?"

"Strictly speaking, you _are_ sick," Donatello said. "But not nearly as sick as you think you are."

"What about this procedure Ron just suggested?" David asked. "Would it work?"

"The premises are true and the theory is sound," Donatello said. "But I can't tell you whether it would work. The risks are no joke."

When David fell into a thoughtful silence and didn't respond, Donatello poked him in the arm. "I'm going to give you some bonus spiritual advice, because I'm such a nice guy. You're attached to this concept of yourself as a hopelessly sick person. What does it matter if you're green and ugly; you'll never be able to do anything anyway because you're too disabled. Get over yourself. Maybe just _try_ not chaining yourself to an IV pole half the time, and see if that doesn't open up some opportunities in your life."

David looked around the room, seemingly trying to imagine what his life would have been like if his room had always looked like this. "Where's Snowflake?" he asked.

Donatello snorted. "In the real world. Cats don't meditate."

David was giving Donatello an appraising look, even as he absorbed the answer to his last question. "Take off your shirt."

Donatello held the front of his button-down together. "Get lost, you pervert."

David pushed him. Donatello pushed back. In a minute they were wrestling and yelling erudite insults at each other.

Raph looked at Leo. "Should we break them up?"

"I don't think so," Leo replied. "I want to see how this ends."

It ended with David sitting on Donatello, chanting "Take it off take it off take it off."

"God, fine." Donatello shoved David's noseless face away from him. "Let me up."

David let Donatello sit up, and Donatello unbuttoned his shirt, letting it slide from his shoulders as David pulled his off over his head.

They looked at each other.

"Turn around," David said.

Grudgingly, Donatello turned to face the wall.

"Is that what my… my shell looks like?" David asked quietly.

"Pretty much," Raph said.

David reached out to touch the thick plating. "That's… kind of nice, actually." He rested his palm across the intricate pattern of ridges. "Donatello…" he said. "Your life here… is it…?"

"Is it what?" Donatello didn't move, didn't even turn his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm a ghost."

David moved his hand to Donatello's shoulder. "Can I take this?"

"I can't stop you," Donatello admitted quietly.

"I'm not sure I can either," David said, as his hand began to glow with a warm light.

The brightness spread up his arm and down Donatello's, flowing through both of them. As the light enveloped them, Donatello turned to face the other half of his spirit.

"Where will I find you again?" David asked.

"You know where Mom hangs the Bat Signal?" Donatello said, and David nodded. "Wait for me there."

"I'll see you soon," David said.

"You better," Donatello said. "Jerk."

"Asshole."

Donatello laughed, and then he was gone.

When the light faded, David was a human with a shell.

"I dunno if this is better or worse," Raph said, and Leo tactfully didn't comment either way.

David looked at the two discarded shirts on the bed. "Guess I don't need those anymore." He stood up, leaving the clothes behind. "So, how does the astral plane work? Is my whole apartment out there?"

"Let's find out," Leonardo said, and he opened the door.


	22. Chapter 22

A perimeter alert dinged softly.

In another life, it would have been an earsplitting alarm, blaring across the cavernous space to warn _everyone_ that someone or something had breached their first line of defense.

It was strange that he knew this.

Technically, he'd only been here a few minutes. He had arrived abruptly, reeling from the aftereffects of having had part of his soul drained out of him. He remembered the other life he had just come from, and the one before that, and the one before that.

But he also remembered a life he'd never had, a life that wasn't his - the life just on the other side of a tenuous but strengthening connection.

And now, suddenly, he remembered a life he could have had, and everything about this space was as familiar to him as if he had always been here. As if his _family_ had always been here. He knew them from spending his whole life watching, trapped behind an impenetrable veil.

But they weren't here. They never had been. The bedrooms upstairs were empty, save for one, and the perimeter alarm was just for him, because no matter how loud he made it, they would never hear.

He slid the mouse to the side, with the ease of long practice that had never happened, and opened a window on the monitor. In a couple of clicks he'd disabled the alarm and turned on an audio feed.

"I can't believe I got such a nerd for a brother."

"I can't believe I have such a technophobe for a mom. The things I could have done."

"What even _was_ all of that? … No, don't tell me. I don't want to know. Where is Donatello? He said he'd be here."

"No, he said we should _wait_ for him here."

"Well, he better hurry up. I ain't real good at waiting."

He shut down the program and turned off the monitor. He stood up, stretching - involuntary re-embodying was painful - and slid his bo home behind his shell.

He'd never been here before - with the way the astral plane worked, it probably hadn't _existed_ until just a moment ago - but as he headed out through the heavily-reinforced door, he knew exactly where to go. It took him only a few minutes to navigate the dark and twisting passages of the sewers, and find his brothers.

He saw Raph and Leo tense at his approach, reaching halfway towards their weapons, on guard in case he was not who they were waiting for. As he came into the glow of the fluorescent lights, they relaxed - and then their expressions turned to shock as they realized what he was.

"Damn," Raph said hoarsely, not quite mustering the entirety of his voice. "Bro…"

It was hard to say who moved first, but they fell into each other's arms, and then he was hugging Leo, and everything would have been exactly right if only Mikey could have been there too.

"Donnie," Raph said into his shoulder. "This is who you shoulda been."

"I'm sorry," Donatello said. "I couldn't be."

He waited until Raph pulled back, in his own time.

"Where do you wanna go?" Raph said. "Anyplace. I don't care."

"Actually," Donatello said, "do you mind if I talk to him in private for a little bit? Thanks." And without waiting for an answer, he took David's arm and pulled him down the tunnel.

"Hold on a second," David said, as he stumbled along behind Donatello, glancing back at their brothers. "I don't know if I should go off alone with you. You already tried to kill me once today."

"Don't worry," Donatello said. "I don't do that anymore." He tugged David forward, then pushed him along by his incongruous shell. "We need to talk. But first, I need to show you some things."

"Where are we?" David asked.

"Remember when Leo and Raph told you they live in the sewers?" Donatello said.

"Yes," David said. His brow furrowed. "How do you know? You weren't there."

"I have your memories," Donatello said. "Anyway, we're near where they live. Or the astral equivalent of it."

David dug in the heels of his sneakers against the filthy concrete. "_This_ is where they live?"

"David." Donatello came to a stop, not pressuring his spirit twin to move on. "What I'm going to show you is what your life could have been, if you had grown up with them. You won't like all of it. You would have not liked all of it, in a different way, if it had been your real life. It's up to you whether you want _any_ of it."

David looked at his feet, then looked up again. "Okay."

"First of all," Donatello said, "you would have looked like this."

He let David take a good look at him. He was a mutant Turtle, through and through, like his brothers - in good health, despite his difficult circumstances, and leanly muscled all over. He stood confidently, knowing his body would have put him at risk in the earthly realm, but trusting it to obey his every command.

David tentatively touched his elbow pad. "Tell me that isn't leather."

"Sorry," Donatello said. "Good synthetic protective gear is hard to come by."

David's eyes moved to the staff behind Donatello's shoulder. "What is that?"

"It's called a _bo_," Donatello replied. "You've never loved being a ninja, but this is a subtle and versatile weapon you feel good about mastering."

"What's up with the masks?" David asked bluntly.

"Kind of hard to explain," Donatello said. "Ask Leo about Japanese history and culture. But make him ration the lectures."

"I still don't understand why my alter ego doesn't wear clothes," David said.

"He didn't have an Aunt Terri to custom-make everything for him," Donatello said.

David fiddled with the seams of his plastron. "You know about Aunt Terri too?"

"And your mom," Donatello said gently.

David thought about this for a moment. "My mom? Not yours?"

"She didn't raise me," Donatello said. "I've never met her. But I know her through you. She's a special person."

"Yeah," David said quietly. "She is." He stared at nothing for a long minute. "Where are we going?"

"This way," Donatello said, and he led David up a ladder into a shining New York night.

* * *

It took only minimal convincing to get David to climb a fire escape. In their previous meetings he had accepted his strength and his health, and - at least in his spirit guise - he was more than capable of handling ladders and staircases. He gathered his courage and pulled himself up onto the roof.

And then he balked at the idea of jumping.

"You want me to do what?" he said.

"Jump to the next roof," Donatello said again, pointing to the wide, flat roof that lay just on the other side of a narrow alley from them.

"You're joking," David said.

"It's the only way to travel," Donatello said, and in an effortless bound he cleared the gap and turned around to beckon David to join him.

To his credit, David did it. The jump wasn't graceful, but it was more than powerful enough to carry him to his destination.

"Okay," David said, reaching for Donatello's shoulder. "I definitely want _this_."

"Wait," Donatello said, as a line of light began to leap between them. "Don't take it yet. I still need it."

David pulled his hand back, the light retracting into his palm like the crack of a whip. "Won't you still be able to use it through me?"

"I don't know," Donatello said. "I've been here my whole life and I still don't understand the metaphysics." He turned towards the far side of the roof. "Let's not take our chances. Follow me."

And they were off. Even without having re-absorbed the skill, David quickly picked up the rhythm of running, pushing off, landing, running again. He didn't attempt any flips - which was probably wise - but he watched closely as Donatello showed off some of the abilities he would have had if he'd grown up as a ninja.

It seemed to take no time at all before Donatello pulled them to a halt on the roof of a low - by Manhattan standards - office complex, just across from the Empire State Building.

"Let's go there," Donatello said, pointing to the iconic spire.

David looked at their target, and looked at the six-lane street far below. "That is categorically impossible," he said.

"Not for me," Donatello replied. "Come on." He took David's hand, and without exactly pushing off, he simply lifted into the air, towing his spirit double behind him.

They skimmed across the street, and then they were shooting up the side of the tower, the wind rushing past their faces, their plastrons almost scraping the art deco flourishes between each row of glass. In barely a minute they were up over the pinnacle of the building, and then they were setting down lightly on the highmost deck.

Donatello didn't let go of his other self's hand until David had recovered his balance.

"How are you able to do that?" David asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You and your brothers are limited by your earthly bodies," Donatello replied. "I'm not." He moved to the railing and looked out over the city.

In a moment, David joined him. "What does it mean, to not have an earthly body?" he asked.

Donatello sighed. "Usually, being a spirit without a body means you're dead," he explained. "I'm not. I'm just… trapped."

"Do you want to be free?" David asked.

"I've always wanted to be free," Donatello said. "But I'm certainly going to miss some of the things I can do here." For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Donatello shook his head. "But we're not here to talk about me. We're here to talk about you." He gestured across the glittering skyline. "David, if you hadn't been sick, all of this would have been yours."

David raised a brow. "I would have been the emperor of New York?"

"Don't get snarky with me," Donatello said mildly. "What I mean is, you would have been able to climb this building and enjoy this view any time you wanted."

"We just flew here," David pointed out.

"Well, yes," Donatello said. "But only for the sake of expediency."

David carefully leaned over the railing to examine the sheer side of the building. "I would have been able to climb _this?_"

"Your brothers do it all the time."

David straightened up and looked at Donatello. "How do you know?"

"I live with them," Donatello said. "Sort of. I hear them talk."

"So when Raphael says you've always been there…" David began.

"I have," Donatello finished. "He's the only one who can see me. I don't know why."

David sat down, settling on the tiny flat space nestled against the base of the spire. "What am I supposed to be learning from you? I have a feeling it's more than just this," he said, and he made a gesture encompassing their journey from the sewers to the heights.

Donatello sat next to him. "This is what you're supposed to be learning, and please understand I'm only telling you this because you're me." At David's questioning look, he continued: "You're kind of a jerk to people. You know this."

"Yeah," David said, and he actually smiled as he said it. "I'm really good at highbrow insults."

"You are," Donatello agreed. "But other people don't feel good when you do that to them."

David looked down. "I can't help it," he said. "I - I feel so powerless, in my real life. I can't go anywhere or do anything. But I can dominate people intellectually, and I can make them feel the way I want them to feel. It's the only way I have any control."

"It sounds to me like you _can_ help it," Donatello said, "but you don't really want to."

David didn't answer.

"What do you think would happen if you were nicer to people?" Donatello asked.

"They - they would take advantage of me," David said softly. "Donatello, I'm scared."

Donatello held him in a secure but gentle embrace. "How do you feel now?" he murmured after a moment.

"Safe," David said. "Cared for. Connected."

"So do I," Donatello said. He pulled back, slowly. "Your brothers need you, David. Not to sound arrogant, but they need the you that's like me. You have a latent ability to make people feel safe and cared for and connected. They've been missing this in their lives. You can bring it back for them."

"I can't live with them," David said.

Donatello gave him a playful push. "All those brains and you can't come up with a telecommunications system? I'm embarrassed to be pretty much the same person as you."

David smiled, just a little. "Do I get to see where you live? I want to see what my doppelganger invented."

"No," Donatello said. "But I will tell you, you have a submarine."

"Get out," said David.

"With depth charges."

"I hate you so much," David said. Donatello raised a brow. "I mean, I am so impressed and jealous."

"It's a start," Donatello said. He stood up and offered David his hand. "Don't drain me yet. You probably don't want to jump from here."

* * *

They flew back the way they had come. Donatello took them high, for a spectacular view all the way to New Jersey, before circling down to the astral shadow of Gentle Care Veterinary Clinic.

Leo and Raph were meandering the street, apparently having realized that the astral plane was completely deserted, and they were free to explore. They turned in amazement as Donatello set himself and his other half down by David's own front door.

"What the -" Raph started.

"I'll let him tell you," Donatello said, nodding at David and not letting go of his hand. Then he looked at his spirit double, and his expression turned serious. "David, listen. If you take what I think you're going to take, I won't be able to help you much after this. I'm leaving a trail to where I think I'm going to re-embody. Follow it. After that, you're on your own."

"Thank you," David said. "For everything. In case I can't tell the next you."

Donatello smiled warmly, tilting his head just a little. "You're welcome." He met Raph's gaze, then Leo's. "Bye, guys."

"Donnie, wait," Raph said.

But it was too late. Donatello embraced David with his free arm, and the light that had been building around their feet enveloped them both. A pair of bright peaks rippled, like two candles, before twisting into one.

* * *

What had a moment ago been Donatello looked out through different eyes. The fingers of his still-pale hands had merged into two thick digits, and a matching set peeked out from under his pant legs.

"No!" Raph was howling, as Leo held him back. "Donnie! Donnie, I -"

"I'm still here," Donatello wanted to say, but his head was spinning, as it hadn't the other times a piece of him had joined with David, and he couldn't get the words out. Slowly, he sank to his knees on the pavement. "Guys," he managed, in a wavering voice. "I don't feel so good."


	23. Chapter 23

Watching three people meditating was boring as hell. As darkness fell over the farm, Mike was already having trouble staying awake.

_Focus, Mikey_.

Splinter had lectured him often enough on his focus. He was constantly distracted by bright colors, moving objects, and the surreal ideas that floated endlessly through his own head. He also had a particular talent for falling asleep, even while on guard duty.

He couldn't afford that now. No one was here to back him up, and his brothers were counting on him.

He checked the incense compulsively, just for something to do. He patrolled the shadowy perimeters of the room, snapping out his nunchaku at random intervals, to prove to himself that he was alert and ready for anything. He moved back into the circle of light to check his brothers' pulses, and then looked out through the dark windows.

Again. Again. Again.

Just like training.

_Boring._

"You are the best, Mikey," he said out loud, just to break the oppressive silence. "Your medicines are so good, you don't even _need_ to be watching them. They are totally safe. Way to go, dude."

"You cannot rely only on your natural talent, Michelangelo," chided the Master Splinter in his head. "You must practice discipline."

Mike whined, but there was no one there to be swayed by it.

Well, there was Snowflake. The blind cat didn't seem to know or care that all the lights were off, and came padding down the stairs to investigate why her master and his companions were being so quiet. She efficiently located the only one who was in a normal state of consciousness, and butted her head against his leg.

"Hey, Snowflake," said Michelangelo, grateful to have someone to talk to. "Why is your name Snowflake? If I had a cat, I would name him Klunk."

Snowflake did not seem interested in this information, but that kind of reaction had never deterred Michelangelo.

"Are you hungry?" Mike asked. "What does D feed you?"

Snowflake meowed, which was not a very helpful answer.

"I'll find you something," Mike said. "Come on, kitty."

He hesitated in the kitchen doorway, but - surely it was fine to be just in the next room for a few minutes. His brothers were totally safe. David would want him to take care of the cat. Yeah. It was cool.

He hurried through warming some leftovers. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of preparing a meal, and he had to keep reminding himself that he was in the middle of something else. But inexorably, his mind drifted.

* * *

_David came into the kitchen with his medicine basket tucked under one arm. "My blood sugar is dropping," he announced. "What am I allowed to eat?"_

_"You want a peanut butter sandwich?" Mike asked. He'd been guarding the kitchen all morning, preventing Raph from filching any unapproved snacks. Mixing herbal medicines with the wrong foods was super, super dangerous. Mike couldn't remember how many times he had tried to explain this to his brother, but Raph never seemed to understand that something he couldn't punch could be dangerous. "I make a mean peanut butter sandwich."_

_"Is it possible to make a bad peanut butter sandwich?" David asked. He sank into a chair, sliding his basket across the table._

_"Oh yeah," Mike said, already busying himself with the loaf of bread. "Takes a special kind of skill, but totally possible."_

_"Maybe make me a bad one, then," David said. "I don't know if I can handle a good one."_

_It was almost physically painful, but Mike made the simplest peanut butter sandwich he knew how, and brought it to the table. He settled in his own chair, leaning forward and looking at his brother with worry. "How do you know you gotta eat?" he asked._

_"Um." David took a huge bite of the sandwich, apparently too hungry - or whatever exactly he was - to exercise more caution. "Test my glucose."_

_"Show me how?" Mike said. "I'm one of those people who's gotta see things."_

_David stuffed another quarter of the sandwich in his mouth, and fished around in the basket. "Glucose meter," he said, setting a palm-sized electronic device on the table. "Finger poker." Something like an odd-looking pen. "Test strips." A sheaf of little pieces of paper. "You poke your finger, put a little blood on the test strip, put it on the meter, and see what your glucose level is."_

_"Can you do it?" Mike asked. He could see the pieces, but he couldn't quite visualize how they went together._

_"I'm not going to poke myself again," said David, "but you can. It won't do anything to you."_

_Mike looked at the finger poker warily._

_"Oh, come on," said David. "Your brother carries _swords_ around all the time, and somehow I think they're not just for show."_

_It was true that Mikey had a variety of sharp implements in his own belt at all times, and he knew how to use them. He just preferred not to use them on himself. As it dawned on him that David deliberately punctured himself multiple times a day, he realized that his brother was, in fact, a total badass._

_He picked up the finger poker. "Where?" he asked._

_"Anyplace that will make you bleed," David said._

_Mike knew the answer to that one all too well. He'd never gleaned much from Splinter's anatomy lessons, but he had made himself and his brothers bleed often enough that he was exquisitely familiar with the location of every vein and artery in the mutant Turtle body._

_He picked one, and struck._

_"Wow," David said. "That… level of force probably wasn't necessary."_

_"Where do I put it?" Mike asked, balancing the quivering bead of blood on the pad of his finger._

_"Here." David pushed one of the test strips towards him, tapping at the colored spot where the blood needed to go._

_Mike smeared his blood on the paper, then put his finger in his mouth while David showed him how to insert the test strip into the glucose meter._

_"You seriously do this every day?" he mumbled around his smarting digit._

_"The alternative is death," David replied, and before Mikey could fully put that in context of what Master Splinter had always told them about their ninja training, the meter beeped and a squared-off number appeared on the screen. "5.7 millimoles," David said. "Congratulations. You have normal blood sugar."_

_"What was yours just now?" Mike asked._

_"3.1," David said._

_Mike didn't know what a millimole was, but he understood that the difference between three and five was usually not very important. "So then what?" he asked._

_"So then I ate something," David said. He poked the last corner of sandwich into his mouth, and licked his fingers. "That was an excellent bad sandwich, by the way. And now I need to take insulin to help me digest it."_

_Mike decided not to ask questions about why eating a peanut butter sandwich caused David to have more tiny animals in his blood (maybe a _millimole_ was a small burrowing mammal with a lot of legs), or what exactly insulin had to do with the whole process. He just watched closely as David filled a syringe from a small vial, and injected it into his arm._

_"How do you know how much?" he asked._

_David didn't acknowledge the question until he had emptied the needle, pulled it out of his skin, and carefully repackaged it. Then he dug a paper card out of the basket and put it on the table in front of Mikey._

_Immediately, Mike's eyes crossed and his head swam. The card was covered in rows of neatly handwritten numbers._

_"You have to start from the glucose reading," David said, pointing to the electronic meter to help prompt Mikey as to the meaning of that term, "then factor in a rough estimate of the sugar in what you just ate -" He traced his finger across the middle columns of the card. "- and then you dose that many units of insulin and hope it's about right."_

_"What if you give too much?" Mike asked._

_"Hypoglycemia," David said._

_"What if you give too little?"_

_"Hy-PER-glycemia."_

_Mike looked at his brother in horror. He didn't even want to know what those words meant._

_Mike had thought that he and his bro were making a connection, but when David saw his reaction, he shut down. "If you didn't want this to be your problem," he said, sweeping up all his stuff and jamming it back in the basket, "you should have stayed out of my life. Thanks for the sandwich."_

_And without giving Mike a chance to say anything, he left the kitchen and stomped upstairs._

* * *

The kitchen. Nighttime. A contented cat washing her face on the counter.

"Oh shit," Mike said, and bolted for the living room.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but his brothers were still sitting, statue-like, in the glow of the incense. One of the sticks had burned out, and he replaced it with a fresh one.

Then he wiped his brow. "Okay, Mikey," he said. "You're fine. Nothing happened. You just gotta not zone out again."

A car crunched in the gravel driveway.

"Oh shit!" he yelped.

Then he was moving. Out went the incense - he was more afraid of the light being seen than of the lack of soothing aromas disrupting his brothers' journey on the astral plane. He made sure the front door was locked, then slipped out the kitchen door, aiming to circle around and sneak up on whoever had found their hiding place.

His well-worn nunchaku slid into his palms as he rounded the side of the farmhouse. He pressed back into a shadow, then leaned just far enough out to see who had driven up.

It was an old van. It looked familiar - doubly so. Mike was an intensely visual person, and he had noticed that Casey and April drove similar cars. In the dark, he couldn't tell which was sitting before him - or whether it was someone else's entirely.

He wanted to get closer, but he didn't want to give himself away. Was it too much to hope that the uninvited guest would just leave? It was super creepy, the way the van was just sitting there with its lights off.

Maybe he should attack. Attacking was always good. Unless the visitor was April or Casey. Then it would be super bad.

Maybe he could lure them away by circling behind the van and making bird calls. Would a creepy visitor follow bird calls in the middle of the night? He should have paid more attention when Master Splinter taught them how to manipulate the enemy's mind.

He hastily pulled himself back from that train of thought as the van door opened and someone began to climb out.

Even in the dark, it was unmistakably Casey Jones.

Mikey intercepted him on the porch steps. "Heyyyyy," he said to the man, who was totally startled by his sudden appearance. He wasn't a terrible ninja after all. "Great to see you again. Not really the best time, though."

"What's going on?" Casey asked. "Why're all the lights off?"

"About that," Mike said, as he propelled Casey off the porch and around towards the kitchen door. He couldn't let Casey go through the front door into the living room, where his brothers were sitting, drugged and unconscious. "Uh…"

"Did the power go down again?" Casey asked. "Damn squirrels are always nesting in the transformers."

"Yes," Mike said. "Yes, exactly that."

"Had about enough of blackouts last month," Casey said, referring to the massive power outage that had struck the Northeast six weeks earlier. "I've got some emergency lights in the attic," he said, as he strode through the back door into the kitchen. "I'll go get them." And he strode right on towards the living room.

"No!" Mike shouted. He jumped to block Casey's path, but he couldn't keep up with the tall human's stride. "Don't -"

But it was too late. Casey had entered the living room and hit the light switch by reflex, and the overhead fixture came on to reveal the three Turtles who had been sitting motionless in the dark.

"What the -" Casey started.

"I can explain," Mike said, ducking under Casey's arm, but the half-formed explanations that had begun convening in his mind immediately dispersed again when he saw that there were not three Turtles sitting motionless under the lights.

David had fallen over.

"Oh, shit," Mike said.


	24. Chapter 24

Casey Jones had always loved the drive up to Northampton.

Sure, getting out of Manhattan sucked. But after that, it was a two-hour cruise through New York or Connecticut, up to Longmeadow and Springfield, and then along the back roads to the familiar gravel drive. He'd been travelling that route since he was a kid, and there was nothing like it.

When he was little, he'd watched the smoke curling up from the paper factories in Chicopee. When he was older, he'd taken off on his bicycle to try to get into the parties at Smith. And then, he'd worn out his legit ID drinking at the Toasted Owl and the Monkey Bar.

But that was all a long time ago.

Now, he was standing in the living room where he used to play with his cousins, and instead of a mass of hyperactive kids, there were two mutant Turtles who looked like they had passed out sitting up, and one who was sprawled on the floor with a blind cat licking his face, and one more standing next to him and swearing incompetently.

"Crap crap crappy crap shit."

"You gonna do something about this?" Casey asked.

Mikey sucked in a breath, possibly to curse some more, and then simply said, "Yes." In one bound he was across the room, and then he was leaping up the stairs, taking the steps five at a time.

In seconds, he was back with a plastic basket containing a jumble of what looked like medical equipment. He skidded to David's side on his knees, braking himself with the leather pads and his calloused toes, and he was shoveling stuff out of the basket before he even came to a complete stop.

"Glucose meter," he said, palming a rectangular device onto the floor. "Finger poker. Test strips. I got this."

Mikey nudged the cat out of the way, then rolled David over onto his back, deftly catching his head before it thumped against the hardwood floor. "Snowflake, here," he ordered, tapping the floor under David's skull with his free hand.

Obediently, the cat wormed under David's head, letting her master use her as a pillow. Now with both of his hands free, Mikey seized one of David's arms and stabbed it with the pen-like device he had thrown on the floor. Tossing that implement back into the basket, he wiped a tiny strip of paper against the welling blood, then jammed the paper onto the gizmo sitting by his knee.

"_18.2?_" Mike screamed at the meter a minute later. No one reacted to this except Snowflake, who startled but didn't flee her post, and Casey, who took a step closer, feeling useless, but thinking he should show some investment in whatever was going on.

Mike snatched a rectangle of cardstock out of the basket, staring wildly at whatever was on it. "14 to 16.7, no. Pointy arrow 16.7… where is pointy arrow 18.2? Before dinner, at bedtime…. _Where is 18.2 passed out on the floor?!_"

Mike winged the card at the couch, where it actually lodged on end between the back cushions. Plunging his hands back into the basket, he pulled out a syringe and a vial, hastily filling the one from the other. "I sure hope this works, bro," he said, as he spread a patch of skin on David's bicep and slid the needle in.

His hands were remarkably steady until he was done administering the medication, and then they shook like crazy as he capped the needle and put it back in the basket.

He took just one breath to calm himself before pressing David's wrist with one hand and using the other to pry open his brother's mouth. Casey wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, but Mike peered inside with intense curiosity.

"You still got some medicine," Mike said. "You're gonna be there a little while longer. I hope you're safe. And almost done."

He pressed David's mouth shut again, then gently lifted his brother into a sitting position, pulling him close against his chest.

"So, uh," he said. "You're probably still waiting for that explanation."

"You know what?" Casey said. "I don't gotta know. Long as you don't burn the house down."

"I've never burned anything down," Mikey said, as he rocked his brother slowly. "I once almost burned my hands off, but that's completely different."

Casey decided he didn't need to know about that either.

"You mind relighting the incense?" Mikey asked, and Casey mumbled "Sure" and went to the kitchen to find a box of matches.

He'd gotten the little sticks of incense relit, and had turned the electric lights back off, and was settling in on the couch when Mikey started his little medical routine all over again. This time, when the meter beeped, he laughed in relief. "5.9," he said. "Okay. We're good, bro. You're gonna be okay." He pushed David into a fully upright posture, and then left him like that, standing up and wiping his brow.

That was when Casey heard tires rolling up the gravel drive.

"Shit!" Mikey yelled.

Casey was instantly on his feet too. Who would be coming up his driveway at this hour? Besides him? He had an excuse; he worked an odd schedule and also _it was his house_. But nobody else had any business parking in his driveway in the middle of the night.

He was about to storm out there and tell whoever it was off, when he found Mikey pushing him towards the door.

"Whoever it is, don't let them in!"

Casey stopped. Mike was a powerful little guy, but nobody pushed Casey Jones around when he didn't want to be pushed. "What if it's your parents?"

"_Especially_ don't let them in!" Mike shoved him towards the door again, then pulled him back. "Wait wait wait. If it's our parents, don't tell them who you are. Master Splinter's never met you, but he knows your name."

"Right," Casey said, and _then_ he stormed outside to tell someone off.

His own van, empty and idle, was closest to the porch. Further down the drive was another van, remarkably similar in shape. Casey did a double-take before realizing there really _were_ two old box vans parked in front of his grandmother's house.

He almost missed the stranger striding towards him.

"Hey hey hey!" he yelled across the distance between them. "This is private property! What do you think you're doing?"

The stranger came close enough that Casey could tell from the movement that it was a woman. "Excuse me!" she said loudly. "I'm looking for a Casey Jones!"

"Casey Jones?" said Casey Jones. He moved closer, wanting to get a better look at the stranger. "Old Man Jones lived up the road. Died twenty years ago. Good riddance."

The woman crossed her arms. She was older and not especially attractive, though maybe it would help if she smiled. "Are you sure? I was told to look for him at this address."

"I'm telling you," said Casey, "there ain't no Jones here. Now are you going to get off my land, or am I gonna have to go back inside for the shotgun?"

"There's no need for that," said the woman, who, to her credit, didn't seem at all intimidated by the threat. "I must have been given the wrong information. I apologize for interrupting you."

And she turned and went back to the van, which, Casey noticed, seemed to be driven by someone else. Who were these people?

He watched the van fire up and slowly reverse out of the long drive, waiting until he was sure it was back on the public road. He thought about following in his own van, but decided to just go back inside.

"Who was it?" Mike asked, as soon as Casey shut the door behind him.

"Some lady," Casey replied.

"_Some lady?_" Mike looked about ready to strangle him. "What did she look like?"

"Average height," Casey said. "Pointy nose. Going gray. I'd give her maybe a four."

Mike slapped his forehead. "Casey," he said. "Two things. First, I need to teach you about women."

"You need to teach me about women?" Casey scoffed. "What do you know about women?"

"Excuse me," Mike said. "The first woman I ever met immediately agreed to go home with me."

Casey couldn't help being impressed by this bit of information. "Damn. Way to go, man."

"That's right," Mike said. They looked at each other. "Oh, and second, that was David's mom."

"Well, good," Casey said. "You said if it's your parents, get rid of them."

"Not good!" Mike shouted. "Now they know where we are!"

"Calm down, Mike." Casey double-checked the lock, then settled back onto the couch. "I told her Casey Jones was dead. She didn't ask about you guys at all."

"She didn't ask about me?" Mike said. He sounded hurt. Then he shook his head. "Of course she didn't ask about us! What if she really _was_ at the wrong house? She would have totally blown our cover!" He started pacing the living room, thinking. "What if she goes to somebody else's house, asks about Casey Jones, and gets sent back here?" He threw his hands in the air. "Probably Master Splinter is with her! He _always_ knows where we are! We're totally busted!" In a blink, he was in front of Casey, shaking him by his shirtfront. "The jig is up, Casey! We're done for!"

"Bro," Casey said. "I told you to chill out. I told that lady, if I saw her on my property again, I would shoot her. She ain't comin' back."

Mike stopped, his hands still fisted in Casey's T-shirt. "You told David's mom you would shoot her?"

"Sure did," Casey replied proudly.

Mike shook him again, more vehemently. "You can't shoot David's mom!"

Casey wrenched Mike's hands loose, and gave him a shove, just to ground him. "Dude! I'm not gonna do it! I just said that so she wouldn't come snooping around anymore!"

Mike stared at him for a long minute. Then he closed his eyes, pinching the ridge between them. "Okay. Okay. That was a good plan. Way to go, Case-man."

Casey just shrugged. "It okay with you if I run out to Big Y for some groceries? You guys gotta be getting low on food."

Mike glanced at the still-dark sky beyond the curtained windows. "They're open now?"

"Bro," said Casey, standing up and reaching for his keys. "New York ain't the only city that never sleeps. Not anymore."


	25. Chapter 25

It didn't take Raph very long to decide that he was not going to spend his time on the astral plane standing around a sewer tunnel.

"Where are you going?" Leo demanded, as Raph swung himself back up the ladder.

"Our brother just ditched us," Raph said bitterly, not slowing his climb. "I'm at least gonna go topside and look around."

"You are not going topside," Leo said, climbing just enough rungs to grab at Raph's foot and try to stop him.

"Why the hell not?" Raph kicked at Leo's head, more violently than he probably should have. "There's nobody there, Leo! When are we gonna have another chance to walk around New York while it's totally deserted?"

Leo made that half-sigh, half-growl noise that meant that Raph had out-logicked him and he didn't like it.

"Why _is_ there nobody here?" Raph asked, when they were standing in the middle of the street in front of David's building. There were cars parked along either side of the road, but they were ghostly, as though not fully manifested. Raph and his brothers hadn't seen any cars moving, nor had they encountered a single spirit on their journey, aside from the multiple aspects of Donatello. "Ain't the astral plane supposed to be full of supremely enlightened people?"

"I think we're in a special part of the astral plane," Leo said. "It isn't the way Master Splinter described it to me. He told me it was like a void, where you move around interacting with other people, communicating at the highest levels of spiritual development. That's sort of like where we first arrived. Since then, it's been more like…" He trailed off for a moment. "It's been more like what David imagines the astral plane is. He sees it as being like the earthly world, because that's all he knows."

"Why are the buildings wrong?" asked Raph, who had lost interest in the metaphysical hypothesizing.

"What?" Leo asked.

Raph took his brother's shoulders and pointed him towards the far side of the street, opposite the vet clinic. "The buildings over there look like in the real world. But the ones over _there_ -" He spun Leo through a 180. "- don't. They're wrong."

Leo rotated himself back and forth a couple of times, puzzling over this. "Because it's what David thinks the world looks like," he said at last. "He knows what the buildings across from his look like, because he can see them from the windows. But he's only seen the outside of his own building once, a long time ago. So he just imagined what it looks like."

"Wonder what he thinks downtown looks like," Raph said, beginning to saunter in that direction.

"Don't go too far," Leo warned him, but at least he didn't insist they go back underground.

* * *

Exploring the astral version of uptown Manhattan was an exercise in frustration. The clinic turned out to be the only building that had an inside. None of the other doors would open, no matter how hard Raph kicked them.

The street didn't extend too far in either direction before all semblance of reality broke down, to be replaced with vague, foggy placeholders for buildings, cars, stop signs, mailboxes, parking meters, and, weirdly enough, payphones. David seemed to not only not _know_ what was beyond his own front door, but also not _care_ very much.

Raph hoped that wherever Donatello had taken him, they were having fun right now.

And then the two of them were swooping in like Silver Sentry, and Raph had sure never seen Donatello do _that_ before.

"What the -" he said.

"I'll let him tell you," Donnie said, and a feeling of terror - at _what_, exactly, it was hard to say - began to build in Raph's stomach. He didn't hear what Dave and Don were saying to each other, until Donnie was fixing him with a warm smile and saying goodbye.

"Donnie, wait," Raph said. He didn't know exactly what he needed to say, but he needed to say _something_ \- about how sorry he was that such a kind spirit had gotten attached to such a sucky body, about how he should have realized sooner what Donatello was, about how he loved him _so much_.

But then that thing with the light was happening, and he would never see this Donnie again.

"No!" he screamed, launching himself at the bright figures. "Donnie!" He wasn't moving. Why? He twisted to punch whoever was holding him back. "Donnie, I -"

The next thing he knew, he was on his knees, and so was David, and Donnie was _gone_, and in his grief Raph almost didn't notice David crumpling to the pavement, panting and shaking.

"Raph!" someone was shouting. "Raph!"

And then Leo punched him in the face, and he snapped back to reality, or something like it.

"He's doing that thing he did when we first met him," Leo said, to help Raph grasp the situation.

"What?" Raph switched his gaze from Leo's face to David's screwed-up spirit body, to verify that this was true. "Why?"

"I don't know!" Leo leaned over David, his hands hovering, unsure what to do to help.

"Where the hell's Mikey?" Raph demanded. "He's supposed to be -" He fumbled for the right words, then settled for jabbing a finger towards David. "- making _that_ not happen!"

"I said I don't know!" Leo shouted, and then they both screamed "_Mikey!_" just in case anyone could hear them.

* * *

It seemed like David was seizing on the pavement forever, and then the spasms subsided, and then, just as mysteriously as the attack came on, it was over.

He opened his eyes and groaned.

"Hey," Leo said softly. He leaned into David's field of view. "What happened?" he asked, because it was just like him to want information from someone as soon as they were conscious, instead of, y'know, asking _if they were all right._

David let out a little breath and closed his eyes again.

Leo pulled David up into a sitting position, holding him against his plastron.

"Hey," he said again, and showing that he did have some capacity for compassion after all, he asked, "Are you all right?"

David let out a little string of noises, without moving his lips.

"Fuck," Raph said. "We broke him. Something's wrong with his brain."

"I think he just needs a minute to recover," Leo said gently, and he rubbed David's bare shell, while quietly noting what else had changed about his spirit body since Donatello brought him back.

It took several minutes, but he did recover. And then he was _furious_.

"I had a blood sugar spike," he said, as if Leo's question had been patiently waiting for him to regain the ability to answer it. "I'm fine. Or as fine as ever." He pushed Leo away and staggered to his pink, two-toed feet, stomping a few paces down the sidewalk and then turning back to glare angrily at his brothers.

"This is all an illusion, isn't it?" he asked. "What's the point of _this _-" He gestured to his toned, halfway-human guise. "- if back in the real world I'm still a hopelessly sick turtle-man? How are we going to fix _that?_"

"David -" Leo started.

"Don't talk to me," David snapped. He closed his eyes, pressing a pale, three-fingered hand over them. And then his spirit guise began to shift in the most disturbing ways.

His skin flowed like mud, his snout and shell appearing and disappearing in ragged chunks that made Raph sick to his stomach. He turned green, and then pink again, and then both in splotches, as if someone had thrown paint on him. Clumps of hair sprouted from his scalp in a shifting pattern. One of his hands had five fingers, and the other had three, and he had one ear, and then Raph couldn't look anymore.

"David -" Leo tried again.

"I said _leave me alone!_" David bellowed, and Raph recognized that as the tone of someone who desperately needed to _not_ be left alone. Indeed, instead of walking away, David kept talking. "I had some kind of a life. I was doing okay. Then you showed up, and handed me the key to a cure, and told me not to use it. What am I supposed to do? I don't want to _be_ here anymore, Leo! I want the surgery!"

Raph's heart plummeted. Donatello - the _real_ Donatello - was gone, and David _still_ rejected being a Turtle?

Maybe that meant that Donatello would come back. Maybe in a second he'd come flying out of David's horrifying body, and -

The thought felt so _right_, and yet Raph was sick again at how _selfish_ it was.

Raph looked up, and saw Leo hugging the monster that David had turned into.

"It's okay," Leo was saying. "It's okay. You can do whatever you want."

"I want to go home," David said into Leo's shoulder.

"We just have to wait for the medicine to wear off," Leo said. He pulled back just a little, his hand sliding down to David's wrist. "Let's sit down and talk about our journey."

David hesitated, but he had nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. In a moment, he sat down with Leo, right in the middle of the street, and Raph joined them, staring at David in disgusted fascination. David ignored him.

"Tell us what you've learned from the Donatellos," Leo said.

David didn't seem to want to talk about it, but after picking at his mottled skin for a while, he relented. "The first Donatello showed me that I _am_ a turtle," he said. "At least on some level. And there are some things that turtles can do that… are pretty cool," he admitted grudgingly. "The second Donatello taught me that I should trust my instincts more. Logic and reason have their place, but sometimes I just have to go with my gut."

Leo nodded, encouraging David to go on.

"The third and fourth Donatellos showed me that I don't have to be a sickly weakling," he said, and then added bitterly, "which, as we just saw, is not _entirely_ true. But I can do better than I'm doing now, without radical interventions."

"Tell me more about the fourth Donatello," Leo prompted. "I didn't understand what he was saying to you."

David sighed, and fiddled with his mismatched feet. "He said that I'm overmedicating. I'm on the wrong side of the therapeutic dose, and the side effects are outweighing the benefits. He suggested I try managing my various issues with a healthier lifestyle, rather than with pharmaceuticals."

"Um…" Leo glanced at Raph, but Raph just shrugged, equally in the dark.

"The therapeutic dose," David said, and outlined something like a small hill in the air. "Or the effective dose. The amount of medicine you need to take to feel better. Take less than that, and it doesn't do anything. Take more, and it does things you don't want it to do - things that hurt you."

"And the second part?" Leo asked cautiously.

"He said I should take less medicine and get more exercise," David explained. "Eat better food. Things like that. He - He suggested I try being a Turtle." David rubbed his arm, obviously uncomfortable with the idea. "Maybe you guys can show me how."

"We would be honored," Leo said. After a pause, he asked, "And the fifth Donatello?"

David grimaced. "Told me I should explain things that way, instead of telling you you're idiots. How'm I doing?"

"Not bad for a beginner," Leo said, pressing David's shoulder, and Raph had to respect his tact. "What did he tell you at the end?"

"He said he was leaving us a trail to his next incarnation," David said. "But I don't know what it looks like."

"You didn't have a vision?" Leo asked, and David shook his head. "Do you want to continue your journey?"

David looked up at the sky, which was a strange, uniform blue. "We're trapped here until the medicine wears off?"

"I think so," Leo said.

"Then we may as well look around." David climbed to his feet, more steadily than he had earlier. His spirit body was still hopelessly caught between human and Turtle, but it didn't seem to bother him. "What else do I have to lose?"

* * *

They searched the street, and Raph found it first - a chalk marking on the manhole cover Leo had fastidiously replaced when they came up from the sewers.

"Check it out," he said, waving his brothers over. "Sewer sign."

"What is sewer sign?" David asked.

"Y'know hobo sign?" Raph said. "It's like that."

He took pleasure in the fact that David just stared at him, no more enlightened than he had been a moment ago.

"It's a way of leaving coded messages for each other," Leo explained. He leaned over the manhole cover. "It says _go down_."

"But we've already been that way," Raph complained.

"Then we'll go that way again," Leo said. He slid the cover aside and jumped down, and Raph didn't have any real choice but to follow.

* * *

Just as Donatello had said, there was a trail of signs. Many of them were directional - _left_, _right_, and _continue straight_ \- but some were encouraging, or as close as it was possible to get in the limited vocabulary of their symbol language.

"Safe here," Leo translated, when they reached one sign, and "Interesting place," Raph interpreted, when they found another.

"Why is this interesting?" asked David, who didn't seem able to distinguish between one stretch of sewer tunnel and another.

"We used to play here," Raph said.

"Here?" David cautiously shuffled back against the wall. "But it's a puddle of sewer water."

"Yeah," Raph said fondly. "Good times."

"Do you know where we're going?" David asked.

"Think so," Raph said, but he wouldn't give away his guess.

He turned out to be right. "Stop," he said, tracing the last chalk sign with a finger.

"Why stop?" David asked. "We're in an empty tunnel."

"No, we aren't," Leo said, and he stuck his finger in an almost-invisible crack in the brickwork, and pulled open a hidden door. "Welcome home."

The space inside was obviously no part of David's memory or imagination. It was perfect, a time capsule the size of an entire room. Every piece of rundown furniture was there, along with every mismatched decorative item they had hung on the walls, having no idea of its cultural significance, but wanting to surround themselves with the things that humans liked. There were the curtained-off "bedrooms," and Master Splinter's alcove, and the talking box they had spent so many hours in front of.

Raph rubbed the tears from his eyes, and when Leo looked at him questioningly, he mumbled something about the dust that hung thick in the air.

"What is this place?" David asked.

"This is where we grew up," Leo said, and he moved towards the fire pit and the water tank with sure steps. He had spent most of his life here, had been trained to navigate it in the dark, and he hadn't forgotten.

"Where is Donatello?" David asked.

Leo pressed a finger to his beak, and inclined his head towards the other wing of the L-shaped space.

Raph got it immediately - the soft footsteps and little expellations of breath of someone practicing ninjutsu. Donatello was still here, in this spirit world. He had come home.

"Go to him," Leo whispered, and David edged forward.

Raph followed, unable to not look. As he and David came around the corner, Donatello didn't stop his practice. He was facing away from them, and his spirit form was about eight years old, not yet skilled at detecting a quiet approach.

He was on the mats, training with a jo, and he was frustrated. Raph remembered this.

_"Raphie, I'm no good at this!"_

_"Yes you are. You just gotta keep trying."_

_"Show me how…?"_

"Hey," David said softly.

Donatello startled and spun to face them, brandishing his small weapon as best he knew how. "Leave me alone!" he shouted. "I don't want to see you no more!"

David went to him anyway, kneeling beside his much shorter spirit double. Donatello, at least, didn't seem repulsed by the form David had taken on. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing ninjutsu," Donatello mumbled.

"Will you show me?" David asked.

"No!" Donatello shouted. He moved to strike David, then pulled the attack, since to complete it might count as showing him ninjutsu. "I'm not any good! You'll make fun of me!"

"You're better than I am," David said. "I don't know any ninjutsu at all."

Donatello watched him suspiciously. "You won't laugh?"

"I should be asking _you_ that," David said. He stood up, taking his best approximation of a ready stance. "Come on. Teach me how."

Sure enough, Donatello was already struggling to repress a smile at David's sloppy pose. "You gotta stand like _this_," he said, setting the jo aside and adopting a fierce stance. David copied him, more or less. "Then you gotta do _this_." He stepped forward into _age uke_, an upward block. "And then _this! Choku zuki!_"

"Cho-gu ski!" David shouted, imitating Donatello's punch.

Both maintained fearsome expressions at their imaginary opponents for about two seconds, and then both burst out laughing.

"I'm laughing at myself," David said quickly.

"I'm laughing at _you_," Donatello said.

"Well," David said, dropping his arm and coming back to a neutral stance, "at least you're honest." He moved forward to stand over his younger self. "We're not very good ninjas, are we?" he asked.

"No," said Donatello. "But we're really smart."

David sat again, cross-legged, and his counterpart did likewise. "And we'll never really be normal, will we?" he asked quietly.

"No," said Donatello. "But we can help people."

"How?" David asked.

"Be nice," Donatello said. "Make things. Have honor."

David held out a hand, tentatively. "Do you think you can help _me_, right now?"

Donatello nodded, but apprehensively.

David laid his right hand - green and three-fingered - on Donatello's bare scalp. "Does it hurt you, when I do this?"

"Yeah," Donatello said. He curled his fingers around the jo, lying on the mats next to him, and brought it across his lap in a protective gesture. "I'm scared."

"Don't be scared," David said.

"Guys?" Leo called, from around the corner. "I think we're running out of time."

"Thank you for teaching me," David said.

"_Dōitashimashite_," Donatello said, in his child's voice, and then the light spread down from David's palm, enveloping Donatello before lifting up and washing back across David's malformed body.

"Guys," Leo said. "We have to go."

Instead of fading, the glow spread, and their entire home vanished into the light.


	26. Chapter 26

Leonardo didn't think he had astrally travelled, but everything was different than it had been a moment ago. He was swamped with impressions, and instantly he was categorizing them all, assessing each input and calculating an overall threat level. It was partly from his training, partly just who he was.

First: They were back in the featureless space where they had started, its whiteness stretching infinitely in all directions around them.

Second: Someone was crying.

Third: Donatello was there twice. He was there as a fifteen-year-old, looking around in bewilderment, and he was there as barely more than a hatchling, hunched up on what passed for the floor and sniffling into his knees.

No. Reanalyze. The younger one was Donatello, but the older one was _David_. He was fully a mutant Turtle, albeit with pants, and without protective pads or the purple mask Leo had so longed to see him wear. Still, he was a welcome sight after the disorganized, patched-together guise David had taken on in his distress.

Fourth: Leo felt very sick. And so did Raph, if the look on his face was anything to go by.

"Wha'ss goin' on?" Raph slurred.

"The medicine is wearing off," Leo said. "That's what I was trying to tell you. Guys, we're not going to be able to stay here very long on our own spiritual power." He looked at the sobbing Turtle, and made the hard decision not to go to him. Instead, he sat down right where he was, settling into a meditative pose. "I'm going to keep us out of our bodies as long as I can. Do what you need to do. Quickly."

And he closed his eyes, calling on all his training to hold his spirit, and his brothers', on the astral plane.

"Hey." That was Raph, swallowing the bile that was trying to climb his throat - if Leo's own symptoms were a reliable guide - to kneel quietly next to Donatello. "Hey, buddy. What's the matter?"

"_Kowaidesu_," came Donatello's thin voice through his tears. "_Sore wa itai._"

_I'm scared. It hurts._

"Hi." That was David. "Are you the last Donatello? What can you teach me?"

There was no answer, except the sniffling.

"You still don't want to talk to me?" David asked.

A little shuffling noise.

"How come you won't talk to him?" Raph asked. "_Naze kare to hanashi o shinai nodesu ka?_"

"_Don't understand_," Donatello whimpered, in Japanese.

"Aw, crap," Raph said. "He ain't learned English yet."

David seemed puzzled by the relevance of this observation. "Why can't he get it through the connection?"

"You're asking me? I don't know how the hell your connection works!"

"Okay, fine," David said. "Can you translate for us?"

"That'll take twice as long," said Raph, who didn't seem to understand he was wasting precious seconds by arguing, "and we ain't got time. Just absorb him and figure out later what you got."

"It doesn't work that way, Raph," David said. "I have to really want it. I have to feel - you know…"

"No, I don't," Raph snapped, and addressed Donatello again. "_Okay, squirt. What do you want to teach him?_"

"_I don't want to be gone_," Donatello said.

"_What's that mean?_" Raph said. "_What should I tell him?_"

"_I don't want you to be gone either!_" Donatello cried, his little voice rising. "_Don't leave me!_"

"What is he saying?" David broke in. "Why is he hugging you like that?"

"I don't know!" Raph shouted. "Maybe because he's my brother! Maybe because I'm the only one who's ever been there for him! If you hate him so much, maybe you should just let _me_ have him!"

Leo clenched his eyes tighter shut. There was a roaring in his ears. It felt like the lower half of his body was falling off. It was like being jarred out of a deep meditative state, but he'd never experienced it this slow or this _intense_. His focus was failing.

"Raph -"

"Make up your mind," Raph said, in that low, shaking tone he used when he delivered ultimatums and really meant them. "Do you want him, or not?"

"I can't -"

"Donnie, go!" Raph shouted. "_Fly away and don't come back! I'll see you again, I promise!_"

"What -" David started, and then light exploded on the far side of Leonardo's eyelids, and he knew no more.

* * *

He shuddered back into himself, and immediately vomited on the floor. Embarrassed, he pressed a hand over his eyes, trying to avoid the line of drool dangling from his chin. He startled when someone else wiped it for him.

"Sorry." Mike's voice. "Thought it would be worse if I warned you."

"You knew that was going to happen?" Leo mumbled.

"Common side effect," Mike said, patting Leo on the shoulder before moving away. "Absolutely not my fault."

Leo pried his eyes open as Mike moved over to Raph, who was in similar straits. Then Mike turned to David, who was sitting with a hand pressed over his eyes, but who did not have a puddle of vomit next to him.

"Nice," Mike said. "Your metabo-thingy has to come out ahead sometimes, right?" When David didn't answer, Mike touched his shoulder. "D, you with us? You okay?"

"Yeah," David mumbled. "Just need a minute."

Half a minute was all it took for Raph to recover enough to jump to his feet, staring wildly around the room. "Where is he?" he said in a loud voice. "Where -" He staggered to the couch and flung it away from the wall, nearly flattening David, who instinctively hunched forward, covering his head with his arms. "Where!"

Mike didn't know how to react to Raph rampaging around the room, knocking furniture around, so it was up to Leo to pull himself together and confront his distraught brother.

"Raph." He caught Raph's arm, and his brother looked at him as though he'd never seen him before. "Raph, I don't know what you just did, but you need to _calm down_."

"He's _gone!"_ Raph roared, and wrenching his arm from Leo's grip, he staggered back to where he had started, fell to his knees, and started shaking David by the rim of his shell. "You took him! You better - He has to -" And then he collapsed, crying into David's pajama shirt.

"_Not_ a normal side effect," Mike said, at Leo's look, and then quickly held up his hands. "But probably still not my fault."

Instead of pushing Raph away, as he probably would have the day before, David slid a hand across the back of Raph's head, until the knot of Raph's mask rested between his fingers, and then just held him like that, letting him cry.

"It's okay," David said. "He's not gone. He's here."

"But the last piece," Raph said, his voice muffled.

"I think it's you," David said. He smoothed his other hand over Raph's shell. "Come on. Pull yourself together and I'll tell you everything."

* * *

It took a little time for everyone to pull themselves together. The three astral travelers wanted to clean up, and Mike made them eat and drink, and it was after sunrise before they were all gathered in the kitchen, ready to review the night's events.

And still, Leo wouldn't have described them as _pulled together_. They weren't the organized, synchronized team that he often envisioned, and that they sometimes managed to roughly resemble. David was uncharacteristically quiet, staring at the tabletop. Disappointingly, he hadn't put his mask back on after washing up in his private bathroom. Raph was emotional, refusing to sit down. And Mike was pulling things out of the pantry left and right, making sure everyone had enough to eat after their exhausting journey.

"Wasn't there less food in the pantry yesterday?" Leo asked.

"No," Mike said. "I mean, only because I hid a bunch of stuff so Raphzilla wouldn't eat it. I put it back while you guys were meditating."

Leo raised a brow. "Are you sure? Nothing happened overnight?"

"No," Mike said again, just a little too loudly. "Absolutely nothing happened. Total peace and quiet."

"An episode of diabetic shock was absolutely nothing?" David said.

"Pff." Mike waved a hand as he set a pan on the stove. "No big deal. Just taking care of my bro."

David looked like he was cooking up a scathing comeback, but then he just said, "Thanks."

"How are you doing?" Leo asked. "Really?"

"I -" David spread his hands, then tucked them under his arms, hiding them in the folds of his shirt. "I've _always_ felt like I was in the wrong body. On the astral plane, I finally felt _right_. My spirit guise kept changing, but _all _of them felt right." He shifted, hugging himself a little tighter. "When can we go back?"

"Nuh-uh," Mike said, as he cracked eggs into a bowl. "You can't return-trip on that stuff too often. I'm not making more of it for at least a month."

David's face fell, and Leo quickly interrupted. "I think the important question is, what was your _final_ spirit guise, and how can we help you get closer to that on the earthly plane?"

"It - it was like you," David said quietly, and out of the corner of his eye Leo saw Mike almost spill the milk he was pouring, which was completely unlike him.

"That was the second to last," Leo said. "What was the last? What happened with the last Donatello?"

"Say what?" said Mike, and Leo briefly recounted most of their adventure - how they had encountered five aspects of Donatello, and how from each, David had absorbed the parts of his soul that he was ready to accept at that stage of his journey.

"And then there were two more that I didn't see," Leo concluded, and he stopped there, looking expectantly at David, who had been lost in his own world during the entire story.

Mike slid steaming plates of strawberry-topped waffles onto the table, but no one touched them.

"The sixth Donatello…" David began slowly, "was a strange one. He… that aspect was preoccupied with all the things he couldn't do, all the things he'd never be good at. He taught me to accept that I _don't_ accept everything about myself, and I never will. There will always be frustrations and challenges in my life, and on some level, at least, I can be okay with that." He fiddled with the fork Mike had brought him. "I wasn't ready for that until the very end of the journey."

"But it wasn't the end," Leo said. "There was one more."

David shook his head slowly. "I think the last one was not Donatello."

Leo frowned. Mike hung hungrily on every word and expression, desperately regretful that he had not been able to share this experience with his brothers firsthand. "How could it not have been Donatello?" Leo asked. "I saw him."

"So did I," David said. "But something wasn't right." He let go of the fork and drummed his fingers on the table, thinking. "Raph…"

Raph, who had been haunting the corner, listening to the conversation but not saying a word, froze.

"Raph," David said. "Is Donatello here now? Can you see him?"

Raph seemed to spend a moment calculating escape routes, but retreat had never been his style. "Yeah," he said hoarsely.

"Where is he?" David asked, with remarkable gentleness.

Leo had the sense that time stopped, but of course the tick of the clock had been silent since long before they came to this place.

"He's right there," Raphael said, and pointed - slowly, unmistakably - to David.

Leo realized it was his heart that had stopped.

David was just nodding, as if he had known all along. "I got all of him," he said. "He's not out there anymore. The last one didn't feel right because it wasn't mine."

"Then what was it?" Leo asked. As it sank in that his brothers had been _that close_ to a spirit that wasn't Donatello, while he was otherwise occupied and unable to protect them, a black ball of fear gnawed at his stomach - even though the danger was well past, and his brothers were unharmed.

David turned to Mikey, who had begun absentmindedly picking the strawberries off Leo's waffles and eating them. "You told me we had a spiritual connection," he said. "Well, what if that connection literally has a spirit? And it's supposed to be embedded in us, but my part of it isn't, because I rejected that too? And I -" He looked around at each of his brothers - Leo, and Mike, and even Raph, watching them wide-eyed from the corner. "I wasn't able to take it back. I'm sorry."

"So then at the end," Leo said, "your spirit guise…"

"I don't think it changed," David said quietly.

Leo hardly dared to hope that his plan had actually worked. "Then… this is what you are?"

"I - I don't know," David said. "How can it be? How am I going to do the things the fourth Donatello said? I think that's the key to all of this, Leo."

The next phase of the plan suddenly crystallized in his mind. "I've been thinking," Leo said, careful not to implicate anyone else in the development of this idea, "what if we stayed here for a while? Like you said, we can teach you how to be a Turtle. I think it would be good for all of us."

"What about Master Splinter?" asked Mike, who had progressed to folding up Leo's entire waffle and sticking it in his mouth. "He's gotta be freaking out."

"He's actually been pretty calm about the whole thing," David said. Everyone stared at him. "I, um… I called home a couple times. Our parents have no idea where we are. If you want, I can call them again, just to let them know we're fine and we're going to stay here a while."

"Then you're okay with this?" Leo asked. He noted the odd way that Mike had stopped chewing, then resumed with furious determination, and put the observation in the back of his mind for later.

David didn't answer for a moment. "I'm going to miss my computer, the clinic, and my mom," he said. "Not necessarily in that order. But… I want to try it."

"When can you call?" Leo asked.

David shrugged. "I can do it right now." He got up and went to the phone, and Leo couldn't help following him to hang over his shoulder and see how he operated the mysterious technology.

"I didn't know that's how a phone works," he said, as David tapped at a small lever.

"It's not," David said. "It's called tone - just never mind, okay?" He pressed the phone to his ear, and listened. "Mom, it's - yes. Yes. Yes. Mom. Yes. Mom. _Mom_. Put Splinter on the phone, okay? Leo wants to talk to him."

And the next thing Leonardo knew, he was holding an unfamiliar device, and his father's voice was coming out of it.

It was a long and elegantly-phrased lecture on how while it was commendable that he had planned and executed the kidnapping of his own brother, and had enlisted allies to aid his family in travelling to a location that was secure from and unknown to his adversaries, and surely in doing so he had gained many skills that would serve him well some day, he still was in _so much trouble_ and should _never under any circumstances do that again_, which left Leo both ashamed and wondering in what way, exactly, his new skills would ever be of use to him in the future.

"_Gomen nasai, Sensei_," he said, over and over. "_Watashi wa anata o fumeiyo ni shita_."

"Craaaaaap," said Mikey, sotto voce, which didn't make Leo feel any better.

"What's he saying?" David whispered.

"He's in serious deep shit," Mike whispered back, and then Leo made both of them get out of his personal space.

"_Sensei, please_," Leo said, in his most formal Japanese, when Splinter finally let him speak. "_Already I could not have brought more dishonor to our clan. My life is worthless and forfeit and I have nothing left to lose. Please, permission to stay here for a time. We have much that we need to _-"

"_Absolutely not_," Splinter interrupted. "_Leonardo, you have put your family in grave danger. You will return as soon as it is safe to do so. We will discuss your punishment when you are home._"

Leo attempted one last, desperate strategy. "Father, please," he said. "We saved your lost son. We brought him back to us, when he would have left forever. He wants to stay here with us for a while. Please, let us do this for him."

A long, long silence. With Master Splinter, long silences could mean anything.

"Let me speak to my son," he said at last.

Leo pushed the phone at David, who lifted it to his ear. "Hello?" Leo couldn't hear what Splinter said, but David replied with an emphatic, "_Yes._" And then again: "Yes." And to a third question: "Yes." After listening for a long time, he said, "I accept your terms." A shorter pause, and then: "Okay. I will see you then."

Leonardo had already taken note of David's negotiating skills, so he was only moderately afraid as he asked: "What did we just agree to?"

David set the phone back down on the other part of the phone. "Number one," he said, "a trusted ally will visit us at least twice a week, to make sure we're all right and we have all the supplies we need. Number two, we will find out the, and I quote, 'phone address' of this house, and we will call our parents with that information. Number three, we will call them immediately if any emergency should occur. And number four, at the first real snowfall, or when we can no longer safely stay here, whichever comes first, we will go home."

"I can live with that," said Mike, and Raph made no sign of disagreement, which for him indicated wholehearted support, and Leo nodded.

"Then it's done," he said, and his only regret was how much better it would have felt if Splinter was not going to beat the living daylights out of him when this was all over.


	27. Chapter 27

He felt numb. His constant friend and playmate was gone, replaced by a stranger he didn't know or even like very much.

He could barely follow the conversation. He snapped in Mike's face when the little twerp tried to feed him waffles. He felt like he hadn't quite come back to his body, like this world was even less real than the one he had just returned from.

The next thing he knew, Mike and Leo had left the kitchen, and David was prodding him gently in the plastron, trying to get his attention. "Hey," he was saying. "Raph, can you hear me? I want to show you something."

"I don't care," Raph said, swatting David's hand away with none of his usual strength. "Leave me alone."

"Then you don't mind taking stove baths for the next few weeks?" David asked.

"What?" Raph blinked and tried to focus. He and Leo had washed up in the kitchen sink after returning from their meditative journey, and he sure as hell was not going to keep doing that until whenever it started snowing in Northampton Outside The City.

"Come on," David said. "I'll show you how to fix the hot water heater," and it was so much like what Donnie would have said that Raph followed him.

The basement was dusty and grimy, the fluorescent light glaring off of decomposing cardboard boxes that looked like they hadn't been touched in decades. David didn't seem to mind; he hadn't even put the old boots on before heading down the minimalist but sturdy wooden-slat stairs.

"You really gonna touch this stuff?" Raph asked, smearing a finger across the sooty ductwork that surrounded the wood-burning furnace.

"I've cleaned up a lot of dog poop in my life," David said, squeezing through the narrow passage between the mechanicals. "This is nothing."

The hot water heater was wedged into the far corner. The kitchen and bathrooms were stacked on the floors above it, reducing the distance the pipes and their cargo needed to travel.

"Okay," said Raph, "so how come the kitchen got hot water and our bathroom don't?" They were right on the other side of the wall from each other, and the heater itself was working fine. The problem didn't make any sense to him.

"Because that," David said, and he pointed to a row of small oval knobs hidden just behind the edge of the ceiling tile.

Raph stared at the silver knobs. They all looked alike. He didn't want to sound like an idiot, but he couldn't see what was wrong with them.

"Yeah…?" he said guardedly.

"Turn the one on the left counterclockwise," David said.

Raph reached up and turned the knob. At least, he tried to. When it didn't budge, he adjusted his grip and tried harder. Still, it wouldn't move.

"Well, don't break it," said David. "Try the next one."

Raph grabbed the middle knob and hauled on it, but got nowhere.

"Maybe the third one," David said. A shit-eating grin was spreading across his face, and Raph had the red-tinted feeling that he was being set up. He considered throwing David against a wall - a _real_ wall this time, not a metaphysical one - but attacked the knob first because he was not going to go down to a _plumbing fixture_ without a fight.

The third knob turned so easily he almost sent _himself_ flying. He spun the silver oval until it squeaked in protest and wouldn't go any further.

He looked at David incredulously. "What the hell?"

"I turned your hot water off," David said.

It was seriously tempting to punch him. "Why?"

"Because I'm passive-aggressive that way," David said.

Raph let go of the knob and gestured across the row of three. "How come you did it up here?"

"Because I enjoy being cruel to people in subtle ways," David explained.

"And how come I only tried to fix it over here?" Raph asked, pointing to the big, squatty water tank.

"Because you take a brute force approach to everything," David said, "and you overlook the details."

Raph narrowed his eyes at this strange new version of his brother, half familiar and half not. "How'd you turn it? Must've been completely stuck when you came down. Know you didn't do it with these skinny arms," he said, and he jabbed David in one nonexistent bicep.

"Gosh, it's called a wrench," David said, rubbing at the jabbed spot as if Raph had actually hurt him. Then he sighed. "Listen," he said, "I'm sorry I turned your hot water off. All of this has… not been the best start to our relationship. Do you think we can start over? I want to get to know you better."

Raph crossed his arms. "Here's what you gotta know about me," he said. "I'm a loser and a fuck-up. I'm good for nothing, okay? I'm so dumb and selfish I stopped you from absorbing whatever connection you're supposed to have to us. So don't waste your time. It ain't gonna happen."

"Yeah, you probably shouldn't have told our spiritual connection to fly away," David said mildly. "But maybe we can still get it back through old-fashioned sibling bonding."

"I don't do that girly crap," Raph said.

"Who said anything about girly crap?" David replied. "Now that we're both covered in some good, honest, manly grease, I want to talk to everyone."

Raph swiped his filthy hand across David's face, and David just laughed.

Maybe this was going to be okay after all.

* * *

"So tell me where we stand," Leo said, when they had all congregated in the living room. Mike had cleaned up the incense, but no one seemed to be in a hurry to put the furniture right-side-up, let alone back where it had been when they first arrived. "You've decided not to get the surgery?"

"This is what it comes down to," David said. "I can always get the surgery later. When I really think about it, I am not in any hurry to undergo an open-heart procedure. I want to try something else first."

"Anything you need," Leo said.

"Well, that's the question," David said. "What _do_ I need? How do I be a Turtle?"

Leo set his jaw and narrowed his eyes, and then he laid out the plan. "Here's what we're going to do," he said. "You are not ready for ninjutsu, and maybe you never will be, but anyone can do tai chi - the thing I was practicing yesterday morning," he added, at David's blank look. "I'm going to teach you how. I'm also going to teach you the real way to meditate."

"Okay," said David, though he sounded a little nervous.

"Raph is going to take you hiking and swimming," Leo went on. "He'll teach you basic survival skills. You're in good hands with him."

"I know," said David, who hadn't bothered to wipe Raph's smudgy handprint off his face.

"And Mike will be responsible for your food and medicine," Leo concluded. "Eat whatever he tells you to."

"I have not been taking the brown stuff," David announced.

"We know," Leo said calmly, which was a total lie, and Mike gave the game away with his exaggerated expression of disappointment. "You're going to start." He regarded David with a level gaze. "How do you feel?"

"I don't think any of this is real," David replied. "I think I'm in a diabetic coma and I'm hallucinating people who understand me."

Leo smiled, warm and sad, and laid a hand over David's. "We're sorry we couldn't come sooner, _otouto_."

"You keep calling me that," David said.

"_Hai_," Leo said. "Japanese lessons start tomorrow."

"I absolutely suck at languages," David warned him.

"_Everyone smile and nod_," Leo said, in his most reassuring tone, and Raph did.

* * *

They ate dinner well before sundown, since no one had slept the night before, and they planned to go to bed early. But after the dishes were put away, they lingered in the kitchen, and took turns telling stories about their lives - some of them to fill in gaps around their present circumstances, others to share who they were and what was important to them.

David had just told a story about working in his mom's clinic, and Mike was gearing up for what probably would have been a self-glorifying tale full of half-truths and outrageous lies, when David put in a request.

"How did Donatello get his name?" he asked.

Leo and Mike looked puzzled. "You know," said Leo, "I have no idea." He turned to Raph. "Raph, do you remember?"

"Aw, that was a long time ago," Raph said. He looked off into the middle distance, reminiscing. "We were reading the name book -"

"The what?" David interrupted.

Raph refocused, looked at David for a moment, and then laughed. "Man, he don't know about the name book!"

"The name book!" Mike said excitedly. "Master Splinter -"

"Let Raph tell it," Leo put in quietly, and then all eyes were on him.

Raph gathered his thoughts for a moment, and then began. "When we were real little - I mean _real_ little - Master Splinter found this book full of, y'know, famous art. And it had stories about the people who made the art. And so Splinter named us after the people who made his favorite pictures."

"So that's why you're all named after Renaissance artists," David said.

"I guess," said Raph, who had never learned anything about art history beyond what Splinter had told them about finding the book of pictures. He had never even read his own namesake's biography. It had been read _to_ him, when he was young, but he hadn't understood and couldn't remember anything about it. "Anyway, one day I was playing with Donnie - he wasn't Donnie then, he was just the kid I played with - and Splinter wanted to know what his name was. So we read the name book. And when Master Splinter got to 'Donatello,' Donnie said 'That one,' and I told Master Splinter, cuz he could never hear Donnie, and so that was his name."

"But why that one?" David asked.

Raph shrugged, remembering the way Donnie had seemed so sure about his choice. "I guess he just liked it."

"Could have picked a worse one," Mike put in. "I mean, Pisanello? Baldovinetti? Yuck."

Leo raised a brow. "I didn't know you spent that much time reading the name book, Michelangelo," he joked gently. Then he turned back to David, realizing that something more important was happening.

"Maybe… maybe call me that," David said, without quite meeting anyone's eyes.

Raph glanced at his brothers. "You want us to call you Donnie?"

David grimaced. "Maybe start with 'Donatello,' and we'll see if we graduate to nicknames."

"I am so not good at not using nicknames," Mike said.

"We'll manage," Leo said. "And now it's your turn to tell a story… Donatello."


	28. Chapter 28

_A day earlier…_

"Are you all right back there?" April asked, as she had been doing approximately every ten minutes since they had left her apartment.

"This does not bother me," Splinter replied, yet again. He was sitting on the floor in the rear of April's vehicle, while she drove and Dr. Lamb sat beside her.

"You know," April said, "I bought this old thing a couple years ago, thinking that someday I would open an antiques shop and need something to haul merchandise in. I never planned to have unsecured passengers in the back."

"Can you pay attention to the road?" said Dr. Lamb, who had spent the entire journey clinging to a small handle in the roof. "This is why nobody drives on 95."

"Patently untrue," said April, taking a hand off the wheel yet again to gesture to the traffic that surrounded them, even in the middle of the night.

"Might we talk about something else?" Splinter interrupted, before the women could begin arguing again. "_Okaasan_, I would be most honored if you would share with me something about my son when he was small."

"David?" Dr. Lamb asked, and her grip on the handle eased just a little. "He was a good kid. Always very well-behaved. He loved to learn."

"He was very smart," April put in. "I've never seen an eight-year-old pick up command line syntax that quickly."

"Pick up what?" said Dr. Lamb.

"Never mind," said April. "Anyway, he had a great attention span, and he was very polite."

"He _was_," Dr. Lamb said. "Then he became a _teenager_." She watched the darkened side of the road go by for a moment. "It's not really his fault. His health got a lot worse when he was about twelve. Who can blame him for being crabby?"

"But when he was small?" Splinter prompted.

"He loved animals," Dr. Lamb said. "And machines. He wasn't interested in cartoons and he's never cared much about sports. He's a very cerebral person. Introverted, but socially astute. He's always been…" She trailed off, and twisted around in her seat to pose a question of her own. "Splinter, tell me the truth. Is my son a turtle?"

Splinter held her gaze under the rhythmic strobe of the street lights. "I saw him when he was so."

"But how is that possible?" Dr. Lamb asked.

"Where I am from," Splinter replied, "we do not question such things, but merely accept them."

"With an attitude like that," Dr. Lamb said, "I never would have gotten out of undergrad," and April hummed in agreement. She faced front again, thumping her head back against the deep, tall chair. "My son can't be a reptile," she said. "I hate reptiles."

"Okay, now _that_ is not scientific reasoning," said April.

"Why do you not like reptiles?" asked Splinter, in some surprise.

"You know how you have to look at a reptile for a long time," Dr. Lamb said, "to figure out if it's a living animal or just plastic?"

"No," said Splinter.

"… Oh," said Dr. Lamb, who seemed to have had a witty remark ready to springboard off of Splinter's yes. "Well, that. Anyway," she added, at Splinter's silence, "the point is, I don't think I can accept my son being _reptilian_."

"Is he not the same son you have known all these years?" Splinter asked.

"Well, yes, but…" Dr. Lamb paused as April turned smoothly off the highway. "Maybe I _should_ let him get the surgery. To cure him."

"You would risk his life for this?" Splinter asked, in increasing alarm.

"You heard him," Dr. Lamb said. "He would risk his _own_ life for this." She turned again, struggling to pick him out in the dark. "I want my son to be happy, Splinter. I want him to be _normal_. What's wrong with that?"

Splinter didn't know that he could have answered differently, if his other sons had felt the way their brother did.

* * *

April eased the van up a road covered in stones, and Dr. Lamb was unbuckling her seatbelt before the vehicle even came to a complete stop. "He is grounded for life," she muttered, as she reached for the door handle.

"How do you ground a kid who never leaves the house anyway?" April wondered.

"You don't want to know," Dr. Lamb replied darkly.

What sort of punishment the boys deserved for their exploit was very much on Splinter's mind, but it was not the most urgent issue at the moment. "Be cautious," he said. "If we are at the wrong house…"

"Then I'll tell whoever lives here I'm lost," Dr. Lamb said, as she opened the door and climbed out of the van. "I'm a normal human, remember? People don't threaten to shoot me just for showing my face."

In a moment she was back, slamming the door and jamming the seatbelt into the buckle. "Some redneck just threatened to shoot me. Let's get out of here."

April started the van and began backing up. Splinter rose from his crouch just enough to get a look at the man who was standing in the driveway, watching them leave, and as he slid back past Dr. Lamb's shoulder, he drew in a long, subtle breath.

"I do not think we are at the wrong house," he said.

April slowed the van. "Do you want me to pull back in?"

"Keep moving," Splinter said, and April obeyed. "I think that is Mr. Jones. He is hiding our sons."

"Then why are we leaving?" Dr. Lamb demanded. She reached for her seatbelt again, as though she planned to jump out of the moving vehicle.

"Continue to the main road," Splinter ordered, and over Dr. Lamb's protests, April obeyed.

She pulled over at the side of a dark and quiet road. "What's the plan?" she asked.

"Yes, Splinter," said Dr. Lamb acidly. "Please tell us what the plan is."

"It is clear our sons do not want to be found," Splinter said. "Their behavior has been so drastic already, I… worry what they will do if we do not give them this time." He thought for a moment, glancing at the sky. "The sun will be rising in a few hours. Let us find a safe place to spend the day. When it is dark again, I will visit the area and make sure they are all right. They will not see me. If all is well… perhaps it is best to let this go on a little longer."

"That is absolutely ridiculous," Dr. Lamb snapped. "April, turn this thing around right now."

"No one else knows where they are," Splinter pointed out calmly. "_We_ could not find them for three days. Their ally threatened your life in order to guard them. And do not forget, our son asked us _not_ to come for him."

"Too bad," Dr. Lamb said. "He doesn't make the rules."

"Emma," said April, "I have zero authority to tell you how to be a mom. But your boy is growing up. You can't keep him in the house forever. You want him to be happy and normal? Let him do this."

Dr. Lamb didn't answer.

"Come on." April started the car again, looked over her shoulder, and pulled back into the deserted lane. "Let's find a diner. I'm starving."

* * *

They were having a sort of picnic in the back of the van, when a phone rang. Dr. Lamb launched herself over the seat to scramble in her bag for the little device. "Hello?" she said as soon as she got it open, and then she gave her son an earful.

"Do not tell him we know where they are," Splinter cautioned, though he was not sure she could hear him, or would listen.

"David, this is the most irresponsible thing you have ever done," she was saying. "Have you tested your glucose today? Do you have enough insulin? No, don't 'Mom' me. Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?"

She seemed to be getting nowhere with this diatribe, and in a moment she thrust the phone at Splinter. "It's Leonardo."

"_Good morning, my eldest_," he began, as if they were spending a pleasant morning at home, and from there he subjected his _chunin_ to a slow and subtle kind of torture.

"_I am so sorry_," Leonardo kept saying. "_I have dishonored you._" Then he made a heartfelt and self-abasing plea to be allowed to stay in his - unbeknownst to him - compromised hiding place, while Splinter pretended that he would never consider any such thing. When Leonardo had punished himself enough, Splinter allowed the ashamed child to talk him into speaking to David.

"Are you well?" he asked, when the phone had been handed over. "Are you happy? Do you wish to remain there with your brothers?"

David replied to each with a confident _yes_. Then Splinter laid out his conditions, glancing at Dr. Lamb after each one and getting her reluctant nod.

"I accept your terms," David said.

"Very well," Splinter replied. "Until the change of seasons, _my long-lost._"

"I'll see you then," David said.

Dr. Lamb reached for the phone, but Splinter handed it to April. "Please turn it off."

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Dr. Lamb said, after the electronic tone that signaled that the call was no longer connected.

"How often have you said that, since becoming a parent?" Splinter asked.

"Approximately every day," Dr. Lamb replied.

"As have I." Splinter laid a hand over Dr. Lamb's, cautiously, but she didn't seem to mind his fur or his claws. "Almost always followed by, 'How fortunate I am, to be having another surprising experience with my sons!'"

Dr. Lamb looked at him as if he had gone crazy. "But we're not having an experience with our sons. They left us. This is the problem we have been dealing with for three days."

Splinter shook his head. "This is the inevitable end of parenthood. How fortunate we are, to have an opportunity to practice it now."

* * *

Dr. Lamb and April found a place, not far from the farmhouse where the Turtles were hiding, to spend the daylight hours.

("Are you sure you'll be all right?" April asked, as they left him in the van.

"It is no trouble," he replied. "Please, enjoy yourselves.")

At sundown, the women had rejoined him, and he instructed April to stop half a mile from the end of the gravel driveway. "I can travel from here," he explained. "Wait for me. I will not be long."

He crossed the terrain quickly, gently rolling hills under early fall stars. The land was covered with clumps of forest, the trees not yet ready to release their leaves.

The house was dark as he approached, the surroundings quiet. Where were his sons? He bent low to the ground, sniffing and listening.

The scent of Mr. Jones was here, though it was hours old. The distinct scent trails of his sons were here too - Michelangelo the freshest, the others from no more recently than a day ago.

He circled the old house, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Did his sons know they had been found? Had they moved? They could hardly be unaware that _someone_ had visited their hideout early that morning, but on the phone call they'd said nothing about the incident.

He had not thought to check whether the phone call came from the same location as the others.

As he came around the back corner of the house, he saw a warm glow spilling from a lower window. He crept closer, and could hear muffled voices coming from inside the rundown but still snug home.

Slowly, he peered over the windowsill. In the kitchen - sized for an extended family - were his four sons, comfortably filling the space with talk and laughter. Just to the side of the window he could see a pile of drying dishes, evidence of a good meal. The boys looked healthy and in good spirits, and David's cat was stretched out on the table between them, at ease in their company.

It would have been easy to burst in, march them all to the waiting van, and take them home. But, with a clarity he had never quite experienced before in his role as a father, Splinter could see the long chain of consequences that such a choice would lead to.

He had trained them for this. He had _raised_ them for this. They were more prepared to be on their own than he had been when he had lost his master, and it was time for them to find their place in the world.

He watched a little while longer, just for the painful pleasure of seeing his children not need him anymore, and then he made his way back to the van.

"Let us go home," he said, after latching the door behind him, and he would not say any more until they were well on the road back to Manhattan.


	29. Chapter 29

Before bed, Leo confronted Mike in a small side room of indeterminate purpose.

"What happened last night?" he said quietly.

Mike, who had been examining knickknacks on the shelves, spun to face him. "I ain't tellin' you nothin', see?" he said, in a terrible 1920s gangster voice.

Leo eased forward, cornering Mikey with his mere presence. Mike was fast and agile and could have gotten around Leo if he wanted to, but he was also easily intimidated.

"Okay, I'll talk!" Mike whined. "Casey came, and then Donnie passed out, and then our parents showed up, and then -"

"What?" Leo interrupted.

"Donnie passed out," Mike repeated. "But it's okay. I fixed it! And I'm not supposed to call him that, right? Only 'Donatello' is a really long -"

"_Michelangelo_."

"Our parents showed up?" Mike repeated in a small voice, and Leo nodded, indicating that yes, that was the occurrence he wanted to hear about. "But they didn't get inside," he said, a little louder. "Casey made them go away. And they didn't see anything. So maybe they _don't_ know we're here?"

Leo rubbed his forehead. "Probably too much to hope for," he said. "But it's probably better this way," he added, before Mike could say anything. "I mean, I… didn't feel good about being out here without Master Splinter knowing where we were," he admitted.

"Yeah, me too," Mike agreed. "But don't tell the guys, okay?" He fixed Leo with his imploring blue eyes. "We're cool with this, but Raph and D need to think they really got away."

"Right," Leo said, after a moment's consideration. "We won't tell them unless we need to. Now go help Donatello with his night medicine."

Mike grinned and dashed out of the room.

When Leo caught up a minute later, Donatello had already taken a spoonful of the brown stuff, apparently without argument. He was severely unhappy about the confiscation of his usual medicines, though.

"Don't need this," Mike said, grasping the tall metal pole. "Or this," and he picked up the CPAP machine, hoisting it like a suitcase.

"Yes, I do," said Donatello, who was sitting up in bed and reaching towards his equipment anxiously.

"Nuh-uh," said Mike. "I am a thousand percent certain you are not going to stop breathing overnight. But just in case -" He passed the supplies to Raph, who was only too happy to take them away and hide them somewhere. "- I'll sleep with you." And he climbed into the bed, right over Donatello and his protests.

"I don't think my girlfriend is okay with this," Donatello said loudly.

"Oh yeah," said Mike, as he snuggled down in the blankets. "You totally owe us stories about your girlfriend."

"_I_ am not okay with this," Donatello said pointedly.

"Don't worry," said Mike. "We do this all the time."

"Leo!" Raph shouted from the other room. "You gonna help me move this bed?"

"Don't tell me -" Donatello started, but Leo didn't hear the end of it, because he went to help Raph drag one of the other beds into Donatello's room. He and Raph settled into it, and then there they all were, in the dark.

"Good night," Leo said, and he fell asleep to the sounds of his brothers - _all_ of his brothers - breathing.

* * *

Bright and early the next morning, he rolled out of bed and went to poke Donatello in the shoulder.

"_Ohayo_," he said softly. Donatello only groaned into the pillow, so he repeated it. "_Ohayo!_"

"No," Donatello mumbled. "New York."

"_Ohayo_," Leo said firmly. "Good morning."

"Okay, _ohayo_," Donatello said, with a truly cringeworthy accent. "Can I sleep for a couple more hours?"

"_Iiei_."

"Great," said Donatello. "I've already learned _good morning_ and _yes_. You can teach me more later."

Leo laughed a single _ha_, and dragged his brother out of bed.

"Okay, okay," Donatello said, as he stumbled down the stairs. "So I take it _ee-yeh_ is _no_. What's this _o-toe-toe_ business?"

Leo smiled. Donatello's natural curiosity and quick understanding would make him a good learner, if he decided to be cooperative in the process. "_Otouto_. 'Little brother'."

"What do you mean, 'little brother'?" Donatello followed Leonardo into the empty middle of the living room. Raph had set all the furniture back to rights the previous afternoon, when he had thought no one was looking, and now the early morning sun was casting a warm, welcoming glow over the space. "You told me we're all the same age."

"Well, we can't be _exactly_ the same age," Leo pointed out. "We don't know what the order is. We just found where we fit. I like being the oldest, and Mikey likes being the youngest, so I guess that makes you another middle. You can fight with Raph about whether you're older or younger than him."

"I think I'll just let him decide." Donatello wiped the grit from his eyes. "Okay. I didn't asphyxiate in my sleep and I've already learned three Japanese words. I'm off to a great start. How are you going to make my day even better?"

"I'm going to teach you tai chi," Leo said. "I think you'll like it. It's a nonviolent practice. It's often used as a form of low-impact exercise, but it can also be used for self-defense, if you should ever find yourself in that kind of a situation."

"That's not what I saw you doing the first morning, was it?" Donatello asked.

Leo thought back across the past several days. "No. That was ninjutsu."

"How is that different?" Donatello asked.

"Ninjutsu is the way of the shadow warrior," Leo replied. "It's a secret art that's been passed down for generations. You are heir to the Hamato line, Donatello. You have the right to learn this art, if you want to."

Donatello shifted a little. "It isn't nonviolent, is it."

"_Iiei_," Leonardo said quietly. Master Splinter hadn't been honest with his sons about that when he began teaching them ninjutsu as children, but there was no use lying to his teenage brother.

"Is that why you carry weapons?" Donatello asked.

"_Hai_," Leonardo said, nodding to help convey his meaning.

"Tell me about the weapon the fifth Donatello was carrying," Donatello said.

Leo raised a brow. "Are you stalling?"

"No, I'm really curious." Donatello's face was the picture of innocence, though Leo had learned that he rivaled Mikey in his ability to fake it. "I have a lot of choices for things to learn about right now, Leo, and I can't magically absorb any of them. I want information on which ones I should invest my time in."

Leo decided to take him at his word. "The fifth Donatello had a bo," he recalled. "I'm not very familiar with it."

"He called it subtle and versatile," Donatello said.

Leo nodded. "That's true. The bo is a deceptively simple weapon. A skilled wielder can do a lot of damage before you realize what hit you. On the other hand, it can be used for precision strikes that disable without causing lasting harm."

"How long does it take to learn?" Donatello asked.

"We've been training as ninja since before we can remember," Leo said, by way of answering Donatello's question. "We began practicing with novice weapons when we were eight. We earned our spirit weapons when we were eleven." Faster than thought, he drew a single katana and flashed through his most impressive moves. "We think we're pretty good."

"I'm hopelessly behind, aren't I?" Donatello said, as his eyes swept over Leo's steady finishing stance.

"Yes," Leo said, spinning the blade back into its sheath, and returning to his center. "But _subete no masutā wa shoshinsha kara hajimarimasu_. Every master begins as a novice." He shifted smoothly to the opening stance of the first tai chi form. "_Hajime_."


	30. Chapter 30

The days quickly fell into a rhythm. Leo woke himself just before sunrise with his foolproof internal alarm clock, then woke Donnie and took him downstairs for some private tai chi lessons. Mike lazed around a while longer, spreading out across the generously-sized bed, enjoying the morning light in his face and annoying Raph by recapping his dreams and speculating on what they meant.

Everyone found their own breakfast as their part in the rhythm allowed, and then it was time for training. Donnie rested and watched while Leo put the experienced ninjas through their paces. It was a little weird to have an audience who wasn't their master, but Mike had never been shy. In fact, his efforts to show off even more than usual probably contributed to him losing sparring matches he should have won.

"Mikey," Leo reprimanded him for the umpteenth time, when he missed an easy opening because he was busy mugging at Donnie to call attention to his last move. "_Focus_."

"I am!" Mike whined.

"On your _training_," Leo suggested, but Donnie kept sneaking him little signals that he was thoroughly entertained by Mike's antics and Leo's ensuing pissiness, and so losing matches was totally worth it.

After training they spent an hour or so engaging in their own pursuits, which for Mike usually meant wandering the farm, sketching the early fall landscape, or preparing a more elaborate lunch. In the afternoon Raph would order Don out of the house, take him for as long of a run as he could stand, and then let him cruise around the lake for a while. Leo would nag Mike about his own basic conditioning exercise, Mike would demonstrate that he was faster than Leo and stronger and pretty much better in every way, and then he would give in and go for a serious run through the woods because it was fun anyway.

In the evening, they'd share a meal and tell stories, and then it was time to curl up in bed again.

It wasn't a bad way to live.

And then, every day had its own special adventures.

"Hey, D," Mike said, one day at lunch. "You wanted to go see the barn?"

"Oh, maybe," D said. "Are there animals in it?"

"Nah," said Mike. "But there's a tractor and stuff."

D's eyes lit up. "There's a tractor? Does it work?"

Mike shrugged. "I dunno. You wanna find out?"

"Do I ever." D inhaled the rest of his food and brought his plate to the sink, leaving it there without rinsing it. He'd learned quick that Leo actually _liked_ cleaning. "I've always wanted to drive a tractor."

"Do you know how to drive?" Leo asked.

"Not a clue," said Donatello cheerfully. "But if we were normal and didn't live in Manhattan, we'd be in driver's ed right now. Homeschool farmstay driving lessons. Who's with me?"

Mike and Raph were in immediately, and Leo mumbled something that involved the words _responsible_ and _supervise_, and then they were heading out to the barn.

Mike hauled the huge door open, and D went in, staring around in wonder. "Are we sure we can't stay here forever?" he asked. "I love this place."

Raph made a beeline for the tractor seat, tried to start the machine, and got not so much as a rumble of life from the old diesel engine. "Aw, come on." He stood up on the footboard and heel-kicked the hood. "Turn over!"

"I don't think that's going to work." D had circled the tractor, taking in everything, and then laid his hands gently on the grille, as though he were befriending a large animal. "Come help me with this."

Raph jumped down, and in a minute the two of them were puzzling over the motor.

"Okay," said D. "I've looked at a lot of diagrams, but I've never actually seen an engine."

Mike lost interest at that point, and headed off to entertain himself climbing in the rafters. The barn was not in great shape, but it was sturdy enough for a ninja Turtle to use as his personal playground, and maybe jumping around up there would keep Leo off his back about exercise for the rest of the day.

He eventually made it out an upper window and onto the roof, an achievement that left him literally with nowhere to go from there. The house was too far away to jump to, and there wasn't another building in sight.

He did handstands and flips on the peak of the roof for a while, and then there was a loud growling noise from below, and the tractor came bouncing out through the big doors, Donnie driving while Raph straddled the casing behind him.

"Go faster!" Raph shouted.

"It doesn't go faster!" Don shouted back. "It's a tractor, not a Ferrari!"

They went around and around the house, arguing over whose turn it was to steer, and then they let Mike drive for a while, and then the ancient machine ran out of gas.

"Aw," Mike said, as his ride sputtered to a halt. "Sorry, Leo."

"That's okay," said Leo, who was trying to sound mature, but who Mike suspected was secretly relieved to not have to interact with the modern technology.

* * *

After dinner, Donnie wanted to talk about something a little different. "Where do you all stand on politics?" he asked.

"Uh," said Mike. "We're not old enough to vote."

"Oh, I know," said D. "But what do you think about the issues? The war in Iraq, for example?"

He was met with a round of blank looks.

"The economy?" D tried. "Education. Health care. Gay marriage." Still he was getting nothing. "The environment?"

"Oh," said Leo. "We're glad there's so much garbage in New York."

Now it was Donnie's turn to look baffled.

"Well, we live off it," Leo explained. "We get everything we need out of dumpsters and landfills."

"Okay, no," said D.

"Whaddya mean, no?" Raph poked D's skinny arm. "You won't believe what humans throw away. We eat better than you do."

"But isn't it contaminated?" asked D, who was obviously appalled by the idea of eating food from the trash.

"It's all wrapped in plastic," Mike said. "Then we cook it. No big deal."

"What about everything else?" D asked. "Furniture? Books? Bedsheets? Dishes? Household appliances?"

"We find them used, or we don't use them," Leo said simply.

"You live in poverty," D said.

"Not at all," Leo said, with a sincere smile. "Most of the time we feel like the wealthiest people in New York."

"But you live off of other people's garbage," D said, as though Leo had lost track of the topic. "Doesn't that _bother_ you?"

"Where do _your_ food and books and household appliances come from?" Leo asked.

"My mom takes care of people's pets," D replied, "and rents space in her building, and that way she earns money, and then she can buy the things we need."

"And that doesn't bother _you_?" Leo asked. "That your mom has to sell her time and space so you can eat?"

"It's how the economy works," D said.

"Ah." Leo settled back in his chair. "Then I guess we're opposed to the economy."

"I don't think you understand the point of the exercise," Don said, when he had recovered from a moment of speechlessness.

"But more importantly," said Mike, who was getting bored of the conversation, "are we going out?"

D blinked at him. "It's dark," he said.

"I know," Mike said. "It's a new moon night."

"Yes," D said. "It's _dark_. Why would you want to go out? You can't see anything."

"_We_ can," Leo said.

"I'm absolutely certain I can't see in the dark," D informed him.

"I know," said Leo, who in fact seemed a little disappointed by that piece of information, though not surprised. He repeated his earlier words, with even a little more emphasis. "_We_ can. Because of our training."

"You can't increase the sensitivity of your rods through training," Don snapped.

Raph, who'd kept quiet for a while, leaned towards Mikey. "Did he just say something dirty?"

"The rods in your _eyes_," Don said, totally ruining the moment. "The structures that detect light. You can't _learn_ to see in the dark."

"We got you through that cave, didn't we?" Raph said.

"That was imaginary," Don replied.

"Okay, well, I ain't gonna argue if it was or not," Raph said, pre-empting Leo's lecture about what exactly the astral plane was. He pushed his chair back and swatted at Don. "Get up. We're going out."

"But -"

"You heard the _sensei_," Mike said, just to irritate Leo further and get a big grin out of Raph. "Move your shell."

"Who even talks like that," Don muttered, but he got up and let Raph push him towards the door.

Within minutes they were away from the house, their path lit only by starlight. "Go towards the woods," Raph said.

"Why?" Don demanded, though his anger was only covering for fear, and nobody was fooled. "Is it not dark enough over here?"

"No backtalk," Raph ordered, and Mike knew he was congratulating himself on the inside for finally getting to say that.

They led Donnie under the shelter of the trees, and then his pace slowed even further. "Guys, I am honestly terrified," he said, his voice shaking. "I can't see a thing." The slightest pause, then: "Are you even still there? I can't hear you. Please tell me this isn't a prank."

"Donatello." Leo's measured tones. "We will never, ever leave you."

"You are such a sap," Raph muttered.

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "And so obviously not true. I mean, eventually we _are_ gonna take him home and then go back to the Lair."

"I don't know which of you I hate the most right now," Don said.

"Can't be me," Mike said. He slid around Raph and unerringly found Don's hand in the dark. "Come on. This is what you do." And he taught Donnie to walk in the deep shadow, to use echoes and air currents and the slope of the ground to find his way. Their bro wouldn't become a ninja overnight. But when the sun rose in the morning, he'd be a little less dependent on its light.

They made a loop through the woods, slowly, not going too far. Don walked alone, a little, near the end, feeling his way forward while his brothers spread out around him, forming a protective circle, giving subtle signals to guide his steps. Mike didn't think he had ever felt so focused. The part of him that always wanted to go bounding off in all directions was finally quiet, while he devoted all his attention and skill to making his brother feel safe and protected, independent and free, all at the same time.

With the help of his unseen escort, Don found the edge of the woods again, where he could just pick out the path back to the house. There he stopped, not afraid of what might lie ahead of him, but contemplating what lay behind. Mike gave him a moment to reflect on what he had just experienced before approaching, careful to telegraph his presence.

"Something you want to do again?" he asked.

"I don't know," Don said. "But I can kind of see the appeal." He reached out uncertainly, and found Mike's shoulder. "You're a weird family. But not such a bad one."

"We're here for you," Mike said. "I mean, none of that sappy stuff. Just, for real. If you need anything, just let us know."

"Actually," Don said, and Mike's heart lifted in eager anticipation, "I'd kind of like to be alone for a little while. It's nothing about you," he added quickly, at Mike's obvious disappointment. "I just need a lot of time by myself."

"No, it's cool," Mike said, and as if on cue they all began moving towards the house. "We respect that."

"I think I'll go sit on the porch swing for a while," Don said, as they approached the kitchen door.

"Don't stay out too long," Leo said. "It's getting chilly."

"I'm learning my limits," Don said quietly.

"_Oyasumi_," Leo said, a word he had taught Don a few nights ago, and Don echoed it back, and then he followed his own path around the side of the house.

He came up to the bedroom about an hour later, took a spoonful of the brown medicine in the dark, and climbed under the blankets next to Mikey. As they fell asleep together, Mike couldn't decide which part of these rhythmic days was his favorite. He wished the snow would never come.


	31. Chapter 31

Casey came again, a few days later, to bring them another round of groceries.

"So, Casey," Leonardo said, as they all worked together to store the food neatly in the pantry and refrigerator. (Well, Leo worked to store it neatly. Mike sort of stashed things wherever, and Leo had been dismayed to discover that Don had a similarly careless attitude towards putting things away.) "How did you come to own this house?"

"I don't," Casey said.

"What?" Leo had no particular problem with squatting, but he liked to _know_ when he was squatting.

"It was my grandma's house," Casey said, wadding up an emptied plastic bag and tossing it in the trash. "When she died, it passed to my mom. _She_ owns it. But she gave me and all my cousins the keys. It's a special place for us. We like to drop in once in a while."

Leo felt a heart attack coming on. "You're just telling us now that any of your cousins could have _dropped in_ while we were here?"

"Don't worry about it," Casey said. "They're good people. They wouldn't give you any trouble." He backhanded a package of hamburger meat to Raph. He probably thought he was pulling off some kind of sleight-of-hand, smuggling meat into the house, but the move was blatantly obvious to Leo, and he was certain Mike and Don had noticed too. "Except Sid. I wouldn't trust him too much."

"Okay, that's it," Leo said. "We're leaving right now."

This triggered a chorus of whining from everyone, which was completely unwarranted.

"Chill out, Leo," Casey said, instantly raising his own standing with the troops. "They're all busy with jobs and kids now. When we got in, did it look like anybody else had been here this decade?"

"No," Leo had to admit.

"See?" Casey said. "No problem."

Leo could not stand that he had just lost a debate - and a popularity contest - to someone who thought "strategy" was a kind of guitar.

"Anyway," Don said, as he set out some bananas to ripen on the counter, "what's the phone number here? Our parents want to know."

Casey rattled off a seven-digit number, and Don nodded. Apparently he was just as able to memorize as his brothers were.

"And do you know the phone is broken?" Don asked. "The dial is missing."

"Aw, yeah," Casey said. "But it was Grandma Lucy's phone, and -"

"Seriously?" Don interrupted. "You're getting sentimental over a broken rotary dial? Replace the phone, Casey."

"Yeah, yeah," Casey grumbled. "First the phone, next you'll be wanting me to fix Papa's clock, and then it'll be renovations till I don't even recognize this place anymore."

"My next question was going to be 'what's the street address?'" Don said, unimpressed by Casey's dramatics. "I really need some clean clothes, and I'll have to tell April where to deliver them."

Casey frowned. "But -"

"Good thinking, Donatello," Leo said, before their loyal but not-so-bright friend could say too much. "Casey, can you tell him the street address?"

Casey gave Leo a funny look - Don didn't miss that either - and named an address.

"Thanks," Don said cheerfully, and he immediately went and dialed the phone with that weird lever-tapping method. Casey looked at Leo again, and this time they were completely on the same page - the phone worked, why mess with it?

"Hi Mom," Don was saying, and then: "Oh, Aunt Terri. Where's Mom? … Oh, she gave your phone back and went home. Okay, good. I'll call her right now. No, wait. Is Anna there? Can I talk to her?" He waited, twisting the toes of one foot against the floor and wrapping the phone cord around his hand, his back to the room. "Hey, girl. … No, you. … Ugh, gross. … As if. Okay. Bye."

"Did aliens just eat his brain?" Mike whispered loudly, as Don held down the phone's lever and then started that rapid-fire tapping again. Leo shushed him, as he and Raph and Casey - and then Mike too - raptly eavesdropped on Donatello's next conversation.

"Hi Mom," Don started again. "No, everything's good. I just need some supplies. Listen, here's the phone number." And he repeated the seven digits Casey had told him a few minutes earlier. "Tell April to call me, and I'll give her the address. … Okay. I need more test strips and I'm running low on insulin. … No, I have plenty of the other meds." Leo supposed that was technically true, since Don wasn't taking the other meds anymore, and he respected the smooth way his brother played it off. "Also I really need some clothes. I've been wearing the same pajamas since I got here. … Oh, and some kibble for Snowflake. We've been feeding her people food and she's getting completely spoiled. … Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Mom. Bye."

He hung up the phone and turned around, only to realize that everyone was staring at him. "What?"

"Nothing," Leo said quickly.

"You have a life," Mike blurted.

"Uh, yeah," Don said, with only the barest hint of sarcasm. "I have a family and a girlfriend and a job and hobbies and a life. It's been a little overwhelming trying to make room for _another_ family and _another_ life."

"How did the tractor get in the yard?" said Casey, and Leo could not comprehend that he was only just noticing that _now_, or that he was bringing it up right in the middle of an important conversation.

"Got it running for you," said Raph, who had gleefully put the hamburger meat in the refrigerator, and had then become quiet and broody during the conversation. "You're welcome."

"But it ran out of gas," Mike explained.

"Well, I'll get some more," said Casey, which was so unlike how Master Splinter would ever have responded to such an exploit that for a moment Leo couldn't believe he had really just said that. "Just don't drive it too far from the house. If the neighbors hear it, and think this place is a working farm again, it'll be 'plow your fields' and then 'fix your fencerows' till I don't even -"

"Okay, we get it," Leo interrupted. "Keep the tractor near the house, guys. And don't destroy anything. Or fix anything. Casey likes his house exactly the way it is."

* * *

The phone rang while Casey was in town, filling an old oil can with diesel for the tractor. Don pounced on it, but Mike got there first.

"Hey, April!" he sang. "How's it going? Long time no see. … Okay, yeah, not that long. But time drags when you're not around, right?"

Don tried to claw the phone out of Mike's hand. Mike just let him try. His grip was nowhere near strong enough.

"Yeah, we're having an awesome time. You should see this place! I mean, you will when you bring D's clothes."

Leo shook his head at Mike, subtly. They both knew that April had probably already been there; who else had been driving the van that Dr. Lamb and almost-certainly-Splinter came in? Mike was going to overplay their hand and give the game away with his exaggerated fake ignorance.

"So, what's up? How's it going back in New York?" Mike leaned casually against the wall, completely ignoring Don's efforts to take the receiver from him.

Don, not a slow-witted guy, changed tactics and gestured for Leo to come over. "Please stab him," he said.

"I don't think so," Leo replied.

"_Kirioroshi_?" Don asked, trying to persuade Leo by suggesting a specific strike he had learned the name of.

"Still _iiei_," Leo said, though he had to give Don points for his attempt to exploit his opponent's weakness.

"Gosh, me too," Mike was saying. "Like, _all_ the time."

Don turned back to Mike, leaning in close to his free ear. "_I have not talked to April in seven years get off the phone_."

"April, some totally rude jerk wants to talk to you," Mike said. "You want me to get rid of this guy? … Okay, suit yourself." And he handed the phone to Don, waggling his brows.

Don snatched the receiver out of Mike's hand and put it to his ear. "April?" And then his face melted into the most ridiculous happy smile.

They talked for a long time. Leo understood almost none of the words, but he gathered that they had a special history, something that maybe he and Mike and Raph would never share with their human friend. April really was an important person in his brother's life, beyond the happenstance connection that had allowed Splinter to find Donatello again after so many years. Again, but more fervently this time, Leo silently thanked whatever power had brought her to them.

"Oh, the address," Don was saying. He gave it to her, and Leo trusted that April was pretending she hadn't already known what it was. "Tomorrow? … Okay. I can't wait to see you again." He was silent a moment, seeming not to be listening to something that April was saying, but merely relishing her long-distance presence. "Bye, April."

He hung up the phone with a kind of reverence.

"Can't a guy get a little privacy?" he said, when he realized everyone was still staring at him.

"We don't have that in our family," Mike replied. "And now you have to tell us the real story of how you met April."

Leo settled in. This was going to be good.


	32. Chapter 32

"Hey Mikey," Raph said, the next morning after practice. "_Keep little brother busy for a while, okay?_"

Mike raised a brow. "_'Little brother'? So you're older than him?_"

"_Yeah!_" Raph laughed. "_He didn't even want to fight about it! What a chump!_"

He hadn't been surprised that Don hadn't wanted to literally fight about it, but he _had_ been surprised that Don hadn't tried to use the position of older-middle as a bargaining chip. He knew his brother's manipulative ways, and he would have been prepared to give up quite a bit for the privilege of being Donnie's _onii-san_. But Don had merely asked his opinion on the point, and accepted his answer without debate.

"_Total sucker_," Mike agreed, and then he jogged off to talk Donnie into doing something that would keep him away from the house for a couple of hours.

Raph went inside to get a few things from his pack, then took up a position on the porch swing to clean his sai and wait.

As he swung, polishing his beloved, hard-won weapons, he reflected on the past week. It had been jarring and lonely to not see Donnie - the one Raph had always known - hanging around in the corners, although given what Donnie had turned into lately, it was also kind of a relief. Equally bizarre was seeing Donnie, the essential spark of him, in the flesh, in the form of the Turtle formerly known as David. David was Donatello and he wasn't, tried to show the better aspects of who he could be and didn't always quite get there, became tired and frustrated and slid back to his surly, better-than-you ways.

It was too soon yet to say if he was really going to change, to say whether whoever he ended up being was going to fit comfortably into their family. And it wasn't just his personality: to Raph there had always been four of them, but Mike and Leo were having trouble adjusting to the mere presence of one more brother. It had been a challenge for everyone.

But in between dealing with all that emotional relationship crap, they'd been able to run in the woods, swim in the lake, spar in the open air, and eat as much as they wanted. On the whole, this time at the farm had been so good, Raph kind of wished Leo had given him credit for actually being in favor of the idea.

His sai were shined to perfection, and he was going over them again with a soft cloth just for the pleasure of handling the beautiful blades, when a van crunched up the gravel driveway. Raph heard it coming, of course, but didn't get up, preferring to let April find him lounging coolly in the porch swing.

"Hey, Raph," April called, as she climbed down from the driver's seat. "Are you going to help me with this suitcase? David's clothes weigh a ton."

Shaking his head at how dumb it was to wear clothes at all, Raph headed down the porch steps to grab the suitcase, which looked like it had just travelled there from the 1970s. Then he stuffed a bag of cat food under his arm and hefted a plastic bin in the crook of his elbow.

"Showoff," April said, and Raph just grinned. "So," she said, "where is David? I haven't seen him in ages."

"Sorry, April," Raph said. "He can't talk to you. He's on retreat."

April raised a brow. "On retreat?"

"Yeah," Raph said. "You know, isolation. Sacred withdrawal from the yada yada. Anyway, it's important that he don't see anybody."

"Well, okay," April said, though she sounded disappointed. "I guess I don't want to interfere with that. But tell him I'll see him when he gets home, okay?"

"Sure will," Raph said. "Thanks, April."

He watched her climb back into the van and pull out, and then he hauled the stuff into the house. It took only a second to dump the cat food in the kitchen (Snowflake appeared instantly to press her nose against the bag) and leave the suitcase and the bin around Don's bed upstairs. Then Raph went out looking for his brother.

He found him in the orchard, where Mike was explaining the use of throwing weapons by sniping reddening leaves off the gnarled trees. Donnie's attempts to do likewise were evidenced by the projectiles lying on the ground among the fallen fruit.

"Pick up your damn kunai," Raph snapped, swiping two out of the tall grass in one move, and brandishing them under Mike's snout. "What kind of ninja treats their weapons like that?" He shoved the blades into Mike's hand and turned to Don. "April just brought your suitcase. I put it upstairs."

Don's face lit up instantly. "April is here?"

"No, she left," Raph said.

Don's face fell again. "What? Why?"

"Cuz I told her to," Raph said. "What," he added, at Don's thunderous expression, "you wanted her to see you in your dirty pajamas?"

That instantly straightened Don out. "I guess not," he said. He looked down at himself, picking at the stained pajamas he'd been wearing for almost two weeks now. "I better go change," he said, and headed towards the house.

Raph followed him. "Why do you want to see April so bad anyway?" he asked. "I'm surprised your girlfriend lets you talk to other women."

"Would you lay off about my girlfriend?" Don snapped. "Why are you so hung up on this?"

"Are you kidding?" Raph said. "How'd you even get a girlfriend? Do you sleep with her?"

"No I don't sleep with her!" Don said, his voice rising an octave.

"Why the hell not?" Raph demanded.

Don stopped, glanced around, and then leaned close to Raph. "She doesn't know where Turtles keep their junk," he hissed.

Raph laughed uproariously, causing Don to resume stomping towards the house. Raph jogged to catch up to him. "You gotta tell her sometime, right?" he said.

"Raph, shut up," Don said, without looking at him.

Raph raised his voice instead. "Just tell her!" he said loudly. "Just take your clothes off, and tell her -" He made a lewd gesture towards his tail. "Here it is!"

Don stopped. Something rose up in him, and then it came out.

"Raph, I'm not _like_ you!" he said, in a burst of emotion. "I'm not okay with this whole nudist thing, and I can tell you right now I never will be. Maybe if I was built like -" He gestured at Raph's toned body. "- a _Greek god_, but I'm not. I'm disgusting. I - I feel like _The Ugly Duckling_ meets _The Trumpet of the Swan_."

"Say what?" said Raph, who had been following the argument until Don suddenly started talking about birds.

"_The Ugly Duckling_," Don repeated. "It's a story in which a baby duck doesn't look like the others, and he's sad because he's hideously deformed. And then he finds out that he's not a duck, he's a swan. A totally normal swan." He turned and started walking again. "So I found out I'm not a human, I'm a Turtle. But I'm not a normal Turtle, I'm a skinny, ugly Turtle. Kind of like how Louis is a swan, but he's mute, and all his siblings make fun of him, so he runs away from home and learns to play the trumpet."

"You're making that up," Raph said.

"And then he asks his human friend to cut the webbing out of his foot so he can play the trumpet better," Don continued, as if Raph hadn't said anything. "I always really related to that part."

"I dunno where you're going with this," Raph said guardedly.

"What I'm saying," Don said, as he banged through the kitchen door, "is that I'm trying, Raph. I really am. But I'm never going to be a Turtle. Not the way you want me to be."

"What?" said Leo, who'd been standing by the sink, quietly drinking a glass of water.

"Once again, your perfectionism is screwing everything up," Raph summarized. He pushed Don towards the living room. "Go change your clothes. I'm gonna make lunch, and then we're gonna talk about this."

* * *

Don was much calmer after he had taken a shower and put on clean clothes, and Raph felt better after loading a huge stack of hamburgers onto a plate. Mike had churned out a platter of grilled vegetables on sticks, and then they all went out in the backyard to eat and talk.

"I think I understand what you're getting at," said Leo, before Don could say anything. Raph had filled him in a little on the conversation, and he had ruminated on it while the food cooked. Don made a noise of skepticism, and Leo held up a hand to stay his retort. "No, really. We have the same problem." He picked at his veggies-on-a-stick for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "We are American. We _want_ to be American. Master Splinter wants us to be American too, to speak English and understand the culture, because it could help us when we run into a human. But _he's_ Japanese. And he wants us to be Japanese too, at home. But we can't be, because we have to practice being American, and because at bottom, we're just not Japanese. We've never been to Japan." He watched some ants in the grass, his gaze distant. "We can't be who our father wants us to be. It's just not who we _are_." He looked up. "Knowing what that's like, Donnie, we're trying really hard to respect who _you_ are. We understand you're not going to be like us. We just… we want you to _know_, and if we're going too far… _gomen nasai_."

"This is new to me," Don said, accepting Leo's effort to bridge the divide between them. "I haven't had to deal with biculturalism that way. I mean, I'm a New Yorker. My mom is a New Yorker. My grandparents are New Yorkers. We don't have -"

"Wait, what?" Mike interrupted.

Don frowned. "What what?"

"You have grandparents?" Mike said, his half-eaten burger dangling from his hand.

"Of course I have grandparents," Don said. "Where do you think my mom came from?"

"But, like, real live grandparents who know who you are?" Mike asked.

Don tilted his head. "They live in Brooklyn," he said. "I see them all the time."

"Donatello," Leo said slowly. "How many people know you exist?"

Don shrugged. "I'm not exactly an open secret, but my grandparents, and my team, and Aunt Terri and her family, and April, and now Casey, and -"

Leo held up a hand. "How many of them now know _we_ exist?"

"All of them?" Don said.

Leo pressed the hand to his forehead. "Donatello," he said, "we've spent our entire lives making sure people _don't_ know we exist. Do you understand how much danger you've put us in?"

"I don't," Don said. "Let's recap. My mom, took in a severely diabetic turtle-boy and basically adopted him. Her parents, cool with this. A group of her colleagues, studied and treated the turtle-boy without publishing his existence in every academic journal in the galaxy. Aunt Terri and her offspring, don't even seem to notice I'm green. April, had every incentive to spill my secret to the world, told no one but your father. Casey, total lunatic, no one would ever believe him." He looked around at his brothers, holding each of their gazes in turn. "Our parents' theory that any human who laid eyes on us would immediately want to dissect us is simply not supported by the evidence."

"What about our enemies?" Raph asked.

Leo sighed. "Stockman is understandably angry that we destroyed his lab. And the Purple Dragons aren't our _enemies_, exactly. They just have a problem with anyone who gets in their way, mutant or otherwise."

"What -" started Don, who hadn't yet heard about this aspect of his brothers' lives, but Leo cut him off.

"I don't know, guys," Leo said. "I don't think Master Splinter has been purposely deceiving us all these years. But I think he might have been… mistaken."

It seemed to physically pain him to admit that their master might have been wrong about something, and there was a moment of silence while they all absorbed the gravity of the situation.

"What are we going to do?" Mike asked in a small voice.

"I have an idea," Don said. "But it has to wait until we return to New York."


	33. Chapter 33

Emma Lamb had never paid much attention to the weather report. When work and home were separated by no more than a staircase, the weather hardly mattered. But that fall, she watched the forecast for western Massachusetts religiously, waiting for the first snowflake icon to make its appearance.

The weeks seemed to drag on. Emma hadn't been away from her son for more than a few hours since he came into her life. She'd given up veterinary medicine conferences and overnight visits to friends who had moved out of town in order to stay with him and make sure he was safe. As David had gotten older, he had promised he would be fine on his own, and had urged her to go, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it.

And now, the apartment was too quiet. Mealtimes were lonely; mornings jarring without David's assistance in the clinic. Between the increased workload and, more importantly, the distraction and worry, Emma felt that her patient care was suffering. She tried to focus on her work, but for the first time in her life - David's worst health crises notwithstanding - it seemed meaningless and could not hold her attention.

("How is he?" she had demanded, when April came back from dropping off the suitcase.

"I don't know," April had said. "The others wouldn't let me see him."

Since then, Emma had called the Massachusetts farmhouse at least once a week. David always came to the phone, but he would never tell her any more than "Mom, I'm fine. I'll see you when I get home.")

And so she watched the weather report. The overnight lows began to dip below freezing. A few flurries came, but they didn't stick. Emma worried about how her thermally-sensitive son was getting along.

And then, there it was. A sunny day in the Pioneer Valley, the meteorologist said, with highs near 60. But temperatures would plummet thirty degrees overnight, bringing six inches of snow by morning.

"Time to break out the winter gear," the smiling weatherman concluded. "And now, your weekly planner."

Emma called April.

She didn't know how Splinter found out what the weather would be a hundred and fifty miles away and twenty-four hours later, but he presented himself at the alley door in the middle of the morning, and by lunchtime the clinic was "Closed Due To Family Emergency" and they were on their way to Northampton.

When April eased the van up the gravel drive and they all climbed out, the weather was perfect. It was hard to believe that tomorrow people would be pulling on their boots and firing up their snowblowers. Today, the temperature was just right for David's peculiar internal thermostat.

But Emma had not come here to enjoy the sunshine and the scenery.

"Where is my son," she demanded, of the first green teenager she encountered.

"He's out in the woods," the startled youngster replied. "I'll -"

Emma did not wait around to hear his plan. She went in the direction he indicated at a fast walk, almost a jog, calling her son's name into the trees.

And then, he was coming towards her. He was wearing slacks and a blue dress shirt and a joyful expression, barefoot and at ease in the rural surroundings.

"David!" she shouted, and now she was running. "David!"

"Mom!" he called back, and caught her against his plated chest. "Mom. Mom," he kept saying, as she in turn repeated his name over and over. But he wasn't saying it insistently, like he normally did, like he was trying to get her attention. Rather, he sounded like he was trying to reassure her.

"What?" she said finally.

"Mom," he said, one more time, with a laugh on his lips. "It's 'Donatello' now."

Her brow furrowed as she pulled back, holding his shoulders and looking at him. "What?"

"I go by 'Donatello' now," he repeated softly. He smiled, and it crinkled the skin around his eyes. "I guess you can still call me 'D'."

Emma took him in. Even under the clothes, she could tell he had filled out. He didn't look like a bodybuilder, not like his brothers, but he had gained muscle mass and confidence. He was beginning to look like a man.

"What happened here…?" she asked.

David - Donatello - glanced at one of his brothers, whom Emma almost hadn't noticed come up beside him, watching the reunion silently. "Raph, _ie ni iku_, okay?"

Raph tossed off a salute and sauntered towards the house, leaving them alone again.

"Mom, walk with me," David said, and he led her deeper into the woods, along the narrow trail he had just come from. "They're teaching me Japanese," he said, sensing her confusion over what he had said to his brother a moment ago. "They're teaching me about ninjutsu. They're teaching me how to meditate, how to swim, how to walk in the woods and not get lost. They're -" He glanced at her, smiling again. "No offense, but they're teaching me what food is supposed to look like."

"Yeah, yeah," said Emma. She was no stranger to derogatory comments about her cooking. She ran a palm over David's sleeve, tracing the smooth new curves there, making him squirm in embarrassment. "Where did this come from?"

"Claims that exercise is good for you, highly accurate," David said. "Also…" He hesitated. "Mikey's brown stuff is surprisingly effective."

"No," Emma said.

"I'm off my meds," David said, his voice rising in a strange mix of fear and courage. "Everything but the insulin."

"David!"

He spun to face her, and she noticed that he planted his feet in a very specific way. "Mom, I don't need them! Ron and the team were wrong about everything!" He pressed a hand to his chest. "I feel better now than I ever have. The guys are teaching me how to take care of myself. I -" His eyes dropped away, then found hers again as he steeled himself to speak to his mother as no longer a child, but nearly an adult. "I like being a Turtle."

Emma ran a hand through her hair. She had not been prepared to deal with anything David had done at any stage of his life - not when he began speaking, not when he began speaking _intelligently_, not when he began having opinions that differed from hers, not when he started having friends she didn't know - and certainly she was not prepared for him to make such weighty decisions about his own medical care.

"I don't know how I feel about this," she said finally. "I mean, it's a big change. Have you -"

"Mom, don't you dare ask if I've tried not being a Turtle," David bit out. "One, obviously yes, and two, the question delegitimizes the struggle for a stable, integrated identity that is the core task of the developing individual in the adolescent phase."

She stared at him, wondering for a brief moment if perhaps she was talking to one of Splinter's by mistake. "Where do you learn this stuff?"

"Honestly, open a Piaget book." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm trying not to say things like that anymore. It's… a long story."

She laid a hand on his arm again, needing the physical contact to begin to come to grips with the changes he had gone through. "David…"

"Don't call me that," he sighed. "It's -"

"Do not say 'my slave name.'"

"I was going for something like 'disempowering'," he muttered, and glanced at the sky. "Let's go pack. We need to get out of here before it starts snowing."

"How do you know it's going to snow?" Emma asked, as she followed her son back to the house.

"Logical deduction from your having suddenly arrived," David replied. "Also, meteorology is one of the eighteen disciplines of ninjutsu. Who would have guessed?"

* * *

The boys were efficient packers. Without even seeming to exchange any words, they gathered up everything they had brought with them from New York, and brought it down to the front porch, from where they began transferring it into April's van.

David took a moment to transfer himself into April's arms.

"It's so good to see you again!" April exclaimed, after they had embraced for a long moment. "I feel like you'd disown me if I said something as cliché as 'You've gotten so big', but…"

"But I'm not eight years old anymore?" David said, with a wry smile.

"Too bad," April said, with a matching twinkle in her eye. "You were cute then."

"So they were," Splinter agreed, before David could get off a witty comeback. "More obedient, too."

All the boys simultaneously pretended they were in no way associated with these old people.

* * *

They got back on the road with the four boys and Splinter all sitting in the rear of the van, along with the suitcase and some duffel bags and the IV pole and Snowflake. They were carefully avoiding the topic of who was going to be in what kind of trouble when they got home, and instead they were talking about some of their more innocent adventures at the farm.

"You know what?" Emma said. She reached for the buckle of her seatbelt. "I'm coming back there with all of you."

She climbed over the center console, careful not to jog April's elbow as they cruised down the highway at 65 miles per hour, and the boys made room for her to swing in behind the driver's seat.

"And then we put the cores in the ground and marked the spots," Michelangelo concluded. "When we go back, we'll see if trees grew."

"Thereby learning about botany and showing a faculty for long-term planning," David added, by way of justifying how his prolonged summer vacation counted towards his homeschool coursework.

"You're going to have to talk to the program about that one," Emma said. She put an arm around her son, tentatively, and he let her pull him to her. Leonardo put a hand on his knee, and he rested like that, stretched between two families, and seeming to be remarkably calm in how he was handling the whole thing.

* * *

They got back to New York after dark. April backed into the alley, and they all climbed out, taking David's things with them.

"After you," Emma said, unlocking the alley door and holding it open for her son.

But David was looking up. "You go on ahead," he said. "Open the window for me, okay?"

"Absolutely not," Emma replied. She shifted her grip on the door and gestured through it. "Let's go."

David took a half step back. "Leo…"

"It's all right, Dr. Lamb," Leonardo said, in that voice that was way too certain for a teenager. "We'll make sure he gets there safely." He glanced at his brothers. "Michelangelo, help him up. Raphael, take his things inside. I'll keep watch."

"You heard him," Raphael said, leaning towards her in a very subtly intimidating way as he juggled the things David was passing to him.

And before she could argue, Michelangelo was boosting David up the fire escape ladder, and if she didn't move, he was going to be sitting up there with no way to get inside.

Raphael followed her up the stairs, taking almost everything in one load. She pushed through the apartment door, flicked on the light, and crossed to the window, where David was crouched just beyond the pane, obviously trying to impress her with an exaggerated pose.

She slid up the sash, and Michelangelo helped him climb over the sill.

"Okay, I totally get why you guys do that," he said, grinning with delight.

Leonardo and Splinter materialized behind him, carrying the last of his things, and then they all stood there, a little uncertainly.

"Thank you," David said finally. "I mean it."

"It was our pleasure," Leonardo said, pressing one fist into the opposite palm.

"Keep up with your exercises, _kohai_," said Raphael.

"Write to us!" Michelangelo pleaded.

David rolled his eyes, but it was more affectionate than exasperated. "I will. I… need to research something, and then I'll get in touch with you."

Emma raised a brow. "Should I be worried?"

"I would say… cautiously optimistic," David replied.

"We look forward to whatever you do next, my son," Splinter said. He took a step back, and the three who would go with him followed in kind. "Be well."

Then they were gone, and Emma sensed that a whole new chapter of life with her son was just beginning.


End file.
